Private In the Aftermath

[Darth Strosius]

Malum's return had been a much busier affair than Darth Strosius had expected it to be. Fitting of course for the Lord of House Marr, but still with far more in attendance than He had thought there would be. Most of which had been all but unknown to Him and the scarce few which were familiar weren't quite familiar enough to warrant Him sticking around to speak with them Himself. Rather, once the speeches and oaths were beginning to wind down, He'd drawn away from the main crowd in favor of a more secluded spot amidst the ruined palace. That He simply wanted a few moments of quiet to fuss over His beloved had nothing to do with it of course.

Now though as the departures began, Darth Strosius made no move to leave alongside the rest of them. Instead He'd decided to take a seat against one of the scarred and now weathered stones that still remained, surveying the ruined grounds with a hum as He waited. Waiting for the "man of the hour" to finish with his guests so that they could get down to the real matters regarding his return from...well wherever it was that he'd ventured off to. He still wasn't certain on the details of course but really it hardly mattered now, Malum was back in the land of the living and he was eager to get back to work. Or, so it seemed at least.

That assumption was precisely what the masked Sith Lord was sitting and waiting for, to see if it was apt or not. After all He hadn't come to see the return of the Tsis'Kaar, He'd come to see Malum. "Think any of his old staff will be willing to come and serve him again? I rather liked their upkeep of the palace when I was here." He mused aloud to Lina as He pushed Himself off of the stone, sensing the approach of the man of the hour. His arms clasped behind His back as He slowly turned to regard Malum, the pale "wings" trailing from His back floating aloft and making Him appear far more grandiose than He'd like.

"And so the prodigal son returns. To a burned home and a destroyed legacy. Not quite how you intended for it to go, was it?"

Darth Malum of House Marr / Lina Ovmar / Srina Talon​

 

[Darth Malum of House Marr]

There was no trumpet to announce his arrival, no herald to read his title. For all the pomp and circumstance that was afforded the long-last meeting between co-apprentices, there was remarkably little. The wind was the only instrument that played upon the dais they had found themselves, the wind, a whistle that sang sharply across the air, and made ears wheep in their melody. A dais that was no stage, literally or otherwise, but simply the ruins of what was. There was some kind of irony there; the palace had once been ruin, it had been when Malum had first descended upon the world, now it was back to ruin.

"Considering what has become of the west wing, I imagine the old staff will demand considerably better terms." A familiar voice to them both answered the question that had not been addressed to him. As out of the pavilion, announced at first by footsteps that were heavy upon the burned grass, deliberate in their pace, revealing out of the ruined architecture, the armoured form of a figure they had once known well.

But had perhaps since, had become merely memory.

A form in armoured black plate and sable cloth, rising from the steel boots, up through the metallic greaves, past the apparel that hid his midsection, to further up the broad chestpiece that protected his heart, casting wide across covering his arms down to the gloved hands. Where Darth Strosius had wings that extended his size, for the heir of Marr, he held but a frame of cloak and hood, one which melted his frame into shadowy depths. All, in service seemingly, of one singular artifice, for indeed while he was dark in form, illuminated only by reds that seemed to grow under moonlight, and few other accessories of different colour and make.

It was the mask affixed to his face that seemed to centre his whole form. The mask of a long-since-dead Sith Lord.

He tilted his head at the question that was spoken by the former Lord Inquisitor, looking to him, the mask hiding what lay in the shroud of ruby red eyes.

Before he turned out towards the ruins all surrounding them.

A moment passed.

And then another.

And then several had passed.

"...No." The voice held no heat, held little of anything.

"It was not." The masked gaze remained upon the ruins of the palace, upon the ruins of what was. Gardens, hallways, rooms cloistered under chandeliers, balconies that looked over horizons, store rooms with multitudes and everything, figures bustling about, busying away under one task or another.

"I thought it would survive me." A beat passed between them, the wind continuing to whistle more of its haunting melody. "...It should have."

Only then did the masked Sith Lord look back towards the fellow masked Sith Lord, "You were here... I was not," He inclined his head askance, "So tell me, Ali." There was a change in the voice, something inexplicable.

"Why did it not?"

Darth Strosius Lina Ovmar Srina Talon

 

[Lina Ovmar]

Darth Malum of House Marr Darth Strosius Srina Talon

Strosius was right to fuss, to find a quiet spot where she could rest, the strain of being away from the portal was already starting to show. She had paled considerably, a fine sheen of sweat covered her forehead and yet she was impossibly cold to the touch. The curse of being between life and death. She was settled on a stone bench, Wraithspire resting in its shorter state across her knees, eyes closed, perfectly still as she tried to reach for the portal she knew was above them, drawing some of the nether’s power down towards her.

She was not leaving until her love did, and Alisteri knew better than to press, so they waited, until the fanfare was over, until the other had departed with their pledges made. A warm chuckle escaped her at Alisteri’s question and she opened her eyes to look at him.Her mouth opened to respond that they were probably all dead and if he really wanted them, she was sure she could find them in the nether.

But Malum’s arrival silenced the thought, his mask was back in place and Lina was reminded why she hated the damn things so much. Alisteri was easier to read, there was little that she could not discern in the way she hel himself, but this man before her was a stranger.

The change in his voice was enough to make her move, Wraithspire snapping to its full length as she shot to her feet and stepped towards him, drawing level with Alisteri, her eyes flashing dangerously.

“Perhaps, you should ask that question of your Shadow Hand. Or maybe you could direct it to the Kainites who obliterated your forces here, or the Empress who witnessed their demise? Or perhaps the Dzara and your dear friend Helix who made turncoats out of a considerable number of your little serpents.”

She took another step toward him, passing Alisteri, the staff landing heavily on the cobblestone, the noise travelling beyond their existence as shadows slowly began to draw towards her.

“If there is anyone who has tried to gather your loyalists under one roof without compromising them it has been Alisteri, so perhaps you would like to start this conversation again without looking for a scapegoat for a situation in which only you are to blame, Malum.”

 

[Darth Strosius]

He hummed at the answer called back from the approaching Malum, casting a quick glance and subtle shrug towards Lina from the corner of His visor, and took an idle step forwards. "Well I suppose they will have earned a bonus or two." If any of them had survived the ravaging of the palace then they were certainly owed far more than that of course. If they were smart enough then they would have made themselves quite scarce and difficult to find in the wake of their survival, though perhaps some would be willing to return. Perhaps.

Even as He mused to Himself though, Darth Strosius didn't shift His hidden gaze from watching the Lord of House Marr. Now was the first time that He had gotten the chance to observe Malum without any audience or prying eyes, to judge the man's demeanor and measure his recovery from his absence clearly. Surprisingly he seemed more quiet than He remembered, more introspective perhaps. His words had always been carefully chosen but this was something altogether different, something more somber. Which was of course understandable, if unfamiliar.

And yet from the moment that one hidden gaze met the other Darth Strosius already knew exactly what Malum was about to ask all the same. "Well-" Before He could enlighten the other Sith on why events had transpired as they had done though, Lina was rather quick to step to His side and speak in His defense. A maneuver that caused Him to pause and all but gawk at her as she stepped past Him. He blinked owlishly but rolled His shoulders and composed Himself, fighting back the grin creeping across His face as He quickly stepped forward to rest a gloved hand on her shoulder.

"Lina, love, there's no need to be so harsh. It is a rather apt question after all don't you think?" Truthfully He wasn't certain if He could assuage her, He hadn't quite seen this side of Lina before, and a small part of Him didn't even want to. But now wasn't the time for barbs, at least not yet. Darth Strosius cleared His throat, forcing away the fondness with which He spoke to His beloved as He looked back to Malum. "She admittedly isn't quite wrong though, this is all your doing."

He gestured out towards the ruins in a sweeping motion as He continued. "Betrayal you sew is betrayal you reap Malum. You made a deal with the powers-that-be to put me down when I 'stepped out of line' as it were. And when you didn't fully uphold your end of the bargain they took what they had promised you and more to ensure that all know the price of crossing them. Three brats for a world and the Inquisition, one life for a world and the Tsis'Kaar. Don't you see it?"

Darth Strosius didn't bother hiding the disdain and disgust that began seeping into His words. "I told you that this is what would become of your dealings with their ilk. The Kainite, the corpse, Raaf, all they care about is their own power and the moment that you made yourself the slightest bit inconvenient to that they didn't hesitate to tear away all that you had to lose. You can't bargain with them, you can't reason with them, and you can't obey them unless you wish to be a slave. But you didn't listen to me, and this is what it got you."

He clicked His tongue and sighed, really more of a seethe given His tone. "Sith such as we want to build an empire, to see the galaxy dragged from chaos into order. All they want is their pathetic thrones. You played their game, the one that they had already won decades ago, and this is what happens when you lose. There is no agreement worth making, no discussion worth having, no point in relenting, when they would never do so in kind. You limited yourself Malum, and when it came time to shatter our chains you chose to kneel. To serve and obey, and this is your reward."

The Lord of Wonosa stepped forwards, leaving Lina's side and after a moment He extended an open gloved hand to Malum. "What will you choose now that you see the truth carved into your world?"

Darth Malum of House Marr / Lina Ovmar / Srina Talon​

 

[Darth Malum of House Marr]

The figure in plate and steel remained still through all the words thrown towards him. At his side, the sheathed hilt of a Sith Sword stood motionless as the wind continued to blow its cloying cool touch across the clearing before them. He who had once ruled this world stood silent as all accusation and explanation were thundered towards him.

It was as the silence descended again.

A silence for all but the haunting melody of the air alive in memory, passing through ruins acting as an instrument for material that had never been designed to be. A ghostly whistle that seemed to protrude around them, the echo of all that once was.

It was only as the conclusion was reached that motion was made once more manifest. The crimson gaze disappeared beneath the shadow of that ancient visor. Following the staff - once the size of a walking stick - now extended out to its full size; held tightly within Lina's grasp. Then it fell to the shadows that gathered at Lina's feet - sapping at her - as if they wished to claw her willingly or not into their vacuous depths. His head tilted as the gaze trailed upward, considering the form before him, finally resting upon the gloved hand that rested upon her shoulder.

The mask did not move for several seconds.

"...I was not seeking a scapegoat." He uttered with a voice that was plain as it was emotionless, a pause descending upon them.

"...But you are right."

His head tipped as it looked past the hand upon her shoulders, beyond her, beyond them, beyond all of them. The ruins stood still in their quotidian shape; foundations remained, yet walls had been torn down, ceilings had long since collapsed, and what remained within... scavengers and decay had played their role well. The frame still stood; that much had been Srina’s gift, and yet… it was hollow, dead. She could not rebuild what had not been preserved, what had already been broken.

The scent of copper was a spectre in the air.

"...My Shadow Hand... the mother of my children..." He paused; there was a weight to his words that had been absent before. "...She did not fail." The admission was stark; the defence paramount - a heady breath passed his lips. "The Kainites struck at the moment of greatest weakness. This so-called Dzara... and Helix... betrayed the trust that was held in covenant." Weight gave way to a certain hollowness, the voice growing guttural in its sting.

His gaze snapped back to her, and he offered the slightest inclination of his head.

"...I built an Order that could not survive any of it, without me." The mask's visage was vigil as it stared directly forward to his quandary, the red orbs beneath the veil smouldering as it met Lina's emerald gaze.

"The failure is mine." It emerged as a hiss, serpentine in its nature, animalistic in its quality. As if his tongue had grown forked for the fewest of words.

Eyes whipped to his fellow enshrouded Sith Lord. He who now had taken the opportunity to speak. Malum did not interrupt him. Not when he concurred with Lina. Not when he spoke of a pact struck. Not when he spoke of those great Sith that defined their era. Not when he spoke of kneeling. Not even when he extended his hand forward.

Not even when he said the game had been won decades ago.

At that, the mask shifted.

"Decades?" He questioned, in a voice that was the barest whisper and yet carried along the winds as loud as any shout, "...Millennia..." He corrected as easily as he breathed. His gaze drifted to the ruins again behind the former Lord Inquisitor's head. A throne that befitted its room, chandeliered heights that twinkled in reflection of the light cast upon it.

A pyramid upon sands.

A sanctuary in the jungle.

A temple of apostacy made the palace of an Emperor.

"Different names. Different thrones. Different empires. All, the same game..." The gaze turned back to consider his co-apprentice, a silence stretching between them, "...I thought I could play it better." The confession came easily, as easily as a disciple confessed to a confessor, priest, or prophet. He raised his arms into the air, held at the same width of his shoulders, his gaze following the sight to the tallest tower, one of the last remaining, a sepulchre of a ruined church, "I thought patience was wisdom, that compromise bought us time. That if I bent where you would not, I could remain standing until the very moment that bending was no longer necessary." He brought his arms down with a force that had the wind whip around him.

"...I miscalculated." The breath was heavy with another admission, as the gaze settled back upon Alisteri, "You warned me. I thought you impatient. Fanatical. So convinced that you could see the destination that you had stopped looking at the road." The gaze fell to the burned grass and the hard, black dirt.

"I was wrong."

Three admissions, each resounded across the grassy plain in which they stood. The wind itself seemed to pause its torrent, the world itself seeming to bask in awe of all that was now occurring. The ruins themselves, the stage on which the greatest of all dramas played themselves out.

Then the sound was broken.

Chuckles broke out beneath the veil, laughter as hearty as it was loud; a hand crept practised to his second face, as the hiss echoed all about them, the amusement only growing in volume, as the mask detached itself from his face, as standing before them.

Was a face they certainly remembered. They had only seen it some hours ago, but closer, it only became more apparent that as much as matters changed, so too did they stay the same. Long raven locks framed a face that had certainly aged several years, rougher with stress lines evident, and yet ever still, aristocratic, with his aquiline nose and the thin lips curved in their laughter.

All that which seemed to serve the eyes.

Red eyes.

Ruby red eyes.

They had aged most of all.

They burned with a smouldering flame that promised they could not be extinguished. As he regarded both figures directly, seeming to take on their appearance in new light. Memories flooded back: a brother had, and a brother lost, a lover had... and now, seemingly too, a lover lost. He might have been bitter once, but now instead...

...He could only smile.

"...I was wrong about that at least, but let us not get carried away." The laughter subsided with a smirk that did not quite reach his eyes - the laughter had not either. Malum gazed upon the offered hand before him, looking down upon it in fervent consideration, tempted to seize it, only forestalled by what needed to be said.

"You are wrong about something too." His gaze rose, red eyes addressing the masked gaze of the winged man before him, so many questions passing his brow, so much to be answered, and yet still... he needed to persevere still, "You think breaking them is enough." He shrugged his shoulders, his eyes coy in their challenge, "Say we do, say every throne falls, every immortal tyrant is scoured, every chain they place upon us is shattered."

He took a step closer, metal boots disintegrating the ashen grass, "Then what?" The question boomed in the air with a gravitas to make lesser men kneel. He did not say another word for a moment, allowing them to digest it.

"You said we want to build an empire." His hand rose, a new pact to be made upon cadaverous earth, yet Malum did not take his hand, the hand wrapping itself as best as it was able around his forearm, not an agreement between Sith Lords.

But a promise between brothers.

"Tell me what we build." His breath was close to the veil; the question hung in the air like a guillotine to fall. He allowed another breath to pass his lips, "You ask what I choose." The smile was back upon his lips, a smile more real than it had ever been, alight in his eyes a light as bright as it was mad. "I choose not to make the same mistake twice." The grip upon his forearm tightened. "So this time, Ali," The smile widened, his teeth barred as a predator had caught its prey, "You are going to help me make new ones."

He dropped the grip as he withdrew from the circle of his air; only then did his gaze travel towards the third amongst their group, for the fourth had yet to unveil herself. The fourth, he did not doubt, would have much to say.

"And you," His smile remained upon his face, as his eyes were alight in the same anticipation of all that could be accomplished, a fire that roared to burn as much as it was balm to cold, "You believed I sought someone else to blame..." He parsed his lips, considering on his tongue if this would not be something he would regret; and no doubt he would, and yet, how could he contend that it was not all necessary? "Do not stop. If you believe I am lying to myself, tell me. If you believe I am becoming that which I claim to oppose, tell me as well." He tilted his head back towards Alisteri, a grin appearing upon a noble's face, "Preferably tell him as well. He has developed an irritating habit of occasionally being correct."

The grin faded as he breathed through his nostrils, the glimmer in his eye fading as the tiredness took hold. The performance of hours past had finally caught up to him, as he now truly felt the weight upon his body. A body that had only weeks past been submerged beneath quotidian depths, and had only breathed once more after years had gone by.

"...I would rather suffer the insult than discover the truth amongst another pile of ruins and bones." It was then that he noticed that he truly saw her. Memories came back, slowly... filtered across so many, and yet still, resurfacing.

...Her skin had not been that pale, had it?

"Now, there is someone I wish for you to meet once more..." He hid what he had noticed, turning towards the ruins of the palace; his heart ached still... and yet, renewed purpose filled him too. He had found it in ruins once, and he had rebuilt it. What was one more time? "...And unless either of you has developed a particular fondness for standing amongst rubble, I believe there remains one room upon the outskirts of my home with four walls...

He paused a moment.

A sardonic smile fluttered upon his features, one that did not quite make it to his eyes. The palace before him still stood, and yet was still… broken.

"...Three at a minimum."

Lina Ovmar Darth Strosius Srina Talon