Star Wars Roleplay: Chaos

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It's Just Galactic Dis-Connection

Kuat - Shamalain Manor

The Clockwork Rebellion and shadow of Omni had fallen now and much the galaxy breathed a sigh of relief. As usual when such catastrophic dealings came to pass, those of brotherhood and those of disagreement came together to fight valiantly to the end.

Kuat had not gone unharmed by this all. In the hours of an allied front meeting, the planet saw more fireworks than it had since the last great war. There had been droids and death and bad decisions. Destruction of nearly one quarter of the KDY after a poorly-piloted Star Destroyer found it's burning, cindering way into it. Then there came the fleeing of the allied troops and the exposure of the Kuati jewel. The entire planet fell to Clockwork and for a time Omni's shadow took hold.

Yet in the darkness, as she always had, one woman regained enlightenment. Kuat did not fall - it flourished. Destruction churned out production. Fire breathed new life. Death in turn birthed a Queen. When the shadow dissipated the rest of the galaxy returned to its prior state, but Kuat remained ignited by a new fervor. The new Queen rose higher the day Omni fell and never looked back.

It was all business from here on.

Business until arriving home at her manor late one evening to find an unannounced guest in her sitting room.

"He said you were expecting him, your Majesty," it had only been a month but already the help had registered these new titles with the skill of having practiced since birth.

"Did he bare my seal of approval?" Queen Lorelei questioned, and to this the help merely regarded her with a vacant gaze.

"He said you were expecting him, your Majesty," the butler returned again.

Eyes narrowing, the Queen gave a delicate nod, "Yes. I was." Was she? Likely not.

The lengths of her fitted black gown trailed soundlessly across the carpeted parlor. Gold trim glimmered as she moved beneath growing and fading lights of candelabras down the hall. Though the sensation of the Force immediately gave her visitor's presence away, it was the familiar scent of tobacco and wine that grew a curiosity.

"Dinner will be ready on the hour, your Majesty."

"Set an extra place," she said, handing over her traveling cloak, "and bring a selection of wine."

The butler neatly folded the cloak over his arm, standing straight-backed, "Your choice, Eminence?"

"Red. From the back room," the woman hushed, then turned to enter the sitting room. The door closed gently behind her.

Lively green eyes stared out at the man across the room, his cut figure standing stark within a cloud of smoke. Queen Lorelei frowned, the facade wilting to the world-weary Lady Silencia; a Sith Master long tired of these charades.

Avicus... the woman's mental voice was strong but low with the faintest of question to it. It had been many years, and communication had been sparse. She could only assume his presence was in relation to their son and perhaps held tidings behind it.
 

Avicus DuSang

The Patron Saint of Heartache
Playing with Sila's toys was a favorite hobby of his. The butler was so easily manipulated. Through his thoughts, he saw a great deal of her accomplishments. It brought a smile to his face.

As she fell into his gaze, he snuffed out his cigarette. True, he had been absent. Clockwork had the Galaxy in a grip of fear, and he focused on Coruscant. And after his brief tenure with the Protectorate, he found himself as a liason between the Hutts and the Empire.

The former Emperor was gifted as a businessman, but his skills as a parent were lacking. That was the main reason he found himself in Kuat. His canine bit down on his tongue as he felt the blood start to pool in his mouth, savoring the flavor.

When her words reached his mind, he closed the gap between them in the blink of an eye. Olive fingers moved through red hair as he swept her off of her feet. And as he embraced her in a passionate, bloody kiss, time seemed to stand still.

Breaking the kiss, his bloody lips caressed her cheek, the tip of his nose running along her ear. "When I heard Kuat fell, I was stricken with terror. I'm so glad to see you. And happy you've done so well in the fire."

Licking the blood off of her cheek, he brought her back to her feet.
 
She tensed in those sudden, brief moments, sharing breath and touching skin and tasting blood. The Sith Lady clenched strong fingers at his neck and hair, filling his mind with brutal, savage desires only he out of many taken mates had ever been capable of unbridling so easily and without her consent. Drinking in his scent and taste she grew dizzy with lust. It was perhaps good that her feet reconnected with the ground - a simple but firm reminder of who she was now and where she currently stood.

Silencia licked the traces of his blood from her lips, eyes closed against the purr of his voice in her ear and mind slowly stilling. Placidity returning, she released her grip on him and a slow breath as well.

I've forgotten what that feels like, her telepathic voice said to his thoughts, lingering to let him wonder what she meant, to be worried about by another. She was a capable woman in many regards, leaving few who truly knew what she was to worry about her before themselves.

Leaning in, the Sith Mistress cupped her once-lover's jaw in both hands to draw him in to an embrace of her own. A warm, staying kiss at his temple was the unspoken gratitude for his concern. But you knew I would endure and flourish in the fire as I always have and the consequences of my loss are little to you, so that cannot be your reason for being here. What is it you've come for, my love?
 

Avicus DuSang

The Patron Saint of Heartache
Her hands were fierce, yet also gentle. How he loved her touch. Her words, her desires made him bite his lip. Her kiss on his temple was as soft as he remembered.

Sighing, he shook his head. "Your loss means a lot more to me then you think." he whispered. Olive fingers running over her hand. "Truth is, I haven't been there for Merovign or you as much as I should've been. I wanted to start making steps to change that."

As the wound on his tongue closed, he kissed her again. Her desires fresh on his mind, his teeth grazed her bottom lip as he pulled back. A devilish grin on his lips.

"How much time do we have before the evening meal is served?"
 
Silencia couldn't speak to his proclaimed concerns - Sith were so good, so skilled at honeying words and his powers as am Empath rivaled her own. Feigning feelings was a menial task. Throughout her years she had grown wise, even paranoid, to this and knew better than to let them draw her in completely. Yet, the woman returned that bedeviled look of his with a coy glance.

She'd be damned if she passed up a feast of honey like this. She might be a Queen and a dark Master of the Force, but she still had needs, wants and desires and Avicus could feed them all. Enough time... the Kuati Sovereign pulled the man in by the collar of his jacket, bringing his lips to her own.

Behind them the muffled click of locks sounded. Curtains already drawn for the evening and the Help busy with dinner preparations, they would have plenty of uninterrupted time to become reacquainted.
 

Avicus DuSang

The Patron Saint of Heartache
Her hesitations were without cause. She had lived for over five centuries, and wasn't naive to the games men played. It would take time to show, afterall. And as she pulled him into her, he smirked.

Doors were locked, the outside world was shut out. Soft lips traced intricate patterns over every inch of her exposed skin. He savored her flavor, breathing in her scent. Fingertips pressed into her.

Taking his time, he worked her mind almost as thorougly aa he did her body. An empath was a terrific lover to have. Not only could they read every desire the mind conjured during the throws of passion, but could also milk the correct parts of the brain. Not only was the ecstacy enhanced, it was extended.

He melted her like hot wax, and built her back with blood, sweat, and her sweet essence.

Collapsing on her bed, he lit up a cigarette. Taking a long drag, yellow eyes closed. Before his bleeding, sweating back could stick to her sheets, he rolled over to his side. Kissing her shoulder, he exhaled the smoke.

"The Empress speaks very highly of Merovign."
 
The Queen of Kuat reposed beside her bedmate, languid and content. Silken sheets clung readily to the fair skin slicked with sweat and blood while thick hellfire locks of hair curled around her face and shoulders. Silencia watched Avicus with a keen, satiated gaze as he leaned in to kiss her shoulder, brow drawing tight at his curious choice of conversation. How quickly interests and intrigues shifted.

She looked to her hands, the right of which openly bearing corruption of the Darkside, and pondered the chance meeting with this man over twenty years ago that lead them to conceive her first and only son. Merovign, now known as Lord Dissero, never stood a chance where his alignment was concerned. His blood was black with Sith heritage, so it was with dignity she received this news. Of course the Empress spoke well of him. The former Emperor had too. Silencia expected nothing less than the best from her son, though she was intrigued of course to know that Avicus now shared dealings with the dark Empire.

The Empress speaks highly of many people, so I'm told, her dispassionate reply came. Fluidly the Sith Mistress turned to rise from the bed, brushing her hair from her shoulders as she smoothly stepped across to her armoir. In the shifting light of candelabras the knotwork of Silencia's Mark of Darkness seemed to slither and crawl across her skin, radiating as branches and roots from the insignia of the Dark Sith Order, branded into her right shoulder blade nearly five hundred years ago. Never visible to the public eye either by a selective wardrobe of high-cut gowns and long sleeves or a simple spell of the Force, Avicus was one of the few to see it in its entirety.

Does Merovign speak highly of his Empress? Picking a robe of black silk from the armoir she pulled it over her shoulders and gracefully shrugged into it. The woman then ran delicate fingers through her hair and lifted it up into a twisted bun where she set it with bone and obsidian pins. A questioning stare of vivid green settled once again on Avicus as she silently padded back to the bed, robe drawn and cinched at the waist with an embroidered sash of gold. The Soul Crest implanted into the flesh and bone of her sternum glistened as she leaned down to delicately procure the man's cigarette from his lips and lifted it to her own for a draw.

She didn't expect Avicus to have an answer to her question. In her correspondence with her son he'd failed to mention a word of his father. Disappointment stemming from this fact would likely be Avicus' alone - she never assumed the man to remain as any form of parent and had been perfectly content to raise the boy on her own, just as she saw fit. It made things easier, really, but if Avicus felt shame for his neglect she wouldn't blame him.
 

Avicus DuSang

The Patron Saint of Heartache
"She certainly does." he whispered. His eyes closing at the coldness in her tone, and her leaving the bed. It was no secret that Avicus respected the Sith Mistress who resided on the throne. She had managed to bring a majority of the Galaxy under Imperial control.

She was a fully capable leader.

Yellow eyes opened as he watched her, putting every detail of her body to memory. "I'd be lying if I said I wasn't jealous. You're still as beautiful as you were the day I laid eyes on you. It's like time leaves you be while it slowly erodes me."

Time. Her question reminded him of how little time he gave their son. As the cigarette was taken from his lips, he sat up. He buried his face in her shoulder. "I can't change the past, love. I can rip a Rancor in half with a snap of my finger. Hell itself bends and bows to my will, but I can't control time.

"And that's certainly not from a lack of trying." His cheek rested on her shoulder, the softest kiss placed on her neck. "I'm a terrible father, and an even worse mate. I'm hedonistic, and recklessly selfish. When I heard you were pregnant, I paniced. But, I'm not that man anymore.

"I want to be there for you and Merovign."
 
Of course you do, she replied with an air of one who suffers fools gladly. A small smirk pulled at her lips unpleasantly.

He spoke of youth and time and righting wrongs - to all these things she felt a cold grip of detachment. Silencia had survived many mates and several husbands. She'd survived many of her own children, and even several grandchildren. Time was no ally to any except those who only ever lived in the moment. There was little point in holding a grudge against the man, she didn't, but she found distaste in excuses and poor planning.

Lifting her gaze to a tapestry displayed on the adjacent wall, Silencia exhaled a long breath of smoke upwards. The artwork depicted the rolling jungle landscapes of Honoghr: a planet that once had been her domain. It had seen many generations of the Shamalain line come to pass and it had known their leadership for nearly a century. In all those years there had never been a constant father figure for any of her descendants, and she knew that to this day had the Gulag Virus not ravaged the galaxy they would live on still. There had been no escaping it.

Would she have liked there to be a father figure? Perhaps. The closest thing to a steady mate she'd ever had was the father of her youngest Amorella: Xander Starkiller. Yet there was a certain set of circumstances that had allowed the man to remain close and involved. Like she, Xander kept his status of Sith well hidden. His presence in her life caused no questions by the public or, more importantly, by the Republic. As head of the R&D department of the KDY, Xander–rather, Alexander Stark–could travel as he pleased without any cause for concern on her part as to the machinations she had at work here.

He has been assigned to the planet Rudrig as Governor and Master of the Empire's Vaults, the matriarch replied, gaze returning to Avicus as he curled against her front. The woman lifted her free hand to brush delicate fingers through his raven hair affectionately.

Out in the hall a large grandfather clock intoned the hour with a deep, orchestral chorus of bells that echoed through the manor like a funeral dirge.

Silencia pulled the cigarette from her lips and offered it back to the man before slowly pulling from his side once more, We'll be dining with my daughter, Amorella. I implore you to keep a decent facade in her presence and limit your talk to subjects outside your darker deeds.
 

Avicus DuSang

The Patron Saint of Heartache
There was no doubt that she was strong. And in her strength, she found solace in distancing herself from the Galaxy. Sans her family, of course. But, the Sith Lord could not hold that against her.

He took comfort in the same.

"Our son, Head Librarian of the Empire." Her fingers coursed through her hair, and he sighed contently. Like a feline, his head moved under her touch, savoring every sweet second of affection.

The chimes of the clock made her rise, and he did the same. Blood dried and began to flake off of his skin. As he took the cigarette back, he placed it between his lips. Dressing himself back in his silk suit, he took a long drag.

"My dear, I'm the former Emperor. The mere mention of my name sends ripples of terror throughout the Galaxy. But, if there is one thing I'm skilled at besides murder, it would be etiquette. I'm a Sith Lord, but also a nobleman.

Avicus DuSang du Coruscant. Prince of Darkness. Monster of soldier's nightmares. The best dressed, best looking, most desirable devil the Galaxy has ever witnessed. But, I'm also your distinguished guest." As he walked up to her, he offered his arm to her.

"Shall we, your Majesty?"
 

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