Tag:
Darth Empyrean
[Also OPEN to Interact]
Wearing: Blue
Location:The Golden Palace, Eliad
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She listened to her husband with an untouchable air. It was one of intrigue, slashed, with quiet amusement that barely let itself breathe. The Empress often buried her emotions beneath a sea of tranquility that had frozen over. None could shatter the surface. It was her legendary iron will and impenetrable calm that had left her standing, but it was Empyrean, Maliphant who held the sole claim toward bringing her back to life. Even in death, gruesome and ghoulish, she was captivated by him.
By his mind and complexities. By his unique perspective—By the fire and depth that lay beneath a stoic exterior. Her every thought in his regard was akin to an unspoken adulation of love. More than that…It was loyalty. Endlessly and ever on his side, even, if his side required that she plunge a blade through his heart. As she had once told Kaine…If Empyrean lost control? If he became a true danger, a maelstrom, that could not be contained? A force that her affection could not quell?
If anyone was going to kill the Emperor…
It would be her.
Not with hate. Not with a need for vengeance. Only…With a need to return him to himself. To protect the legacy they had left behind, to save, the children he might never have the chance to know.
Empyrean's attention shifted momentarily as he sensed might move within his wife. His eternal sight followed her own, honing in on
Darth Strosius
, who had attracted her consideration for the briefest of moments. She was certain that the Knight felt the weight, the consequences, of his nigh traitorous tongue wagging in the shadows. The fit she felt brewing in response was akin to a youngling throwing a fit about a curfew or some otherwise unfair parental policy. His defiance, like all things, would pass.
Her silence on the matter told her husband that she had the matter well in hand, however, and her seemingly delicate form shifted nearer to the Emperor while his mostly human hand found the small of her back. They communicated on the matter without words, truly, a silent understanding that had been cultivated over years of living in the halls of each other's minds. Of breathing one another in to the point that one…Scarcely existed without the other.
Some called it toxic codependence.
Srina called it marriage.
Empyrean returned to the conversation and his dry humor drew a soft laugh. It was a silvery sound that blended with the subtle playfulness of their banter, barely there, but hauntingly beautiful all the same.
"One good kindling indeed…But there is the cycle of the phoenix to consider. Immortality, resurrection, transformation. Is not barren soil enriched after a blaze?"
The pale Echani didn't think that the Sith Order had reached that point, not yet, but she understood the controversial theory all the same. Fire brought passion, ambition, and was the lifesblood for any Sith worth their salt. Srina was silent for a moment while they slowly danced through the crowd. Falling into familiar steps where her hands could twin around his neck and blood-red hair tickled the backs of her knuckles. They were close. But, not too close.
Part of his physical manifestation would kill her. No matter, how he cherished her.
She moved with the refinement and confidence befitting her upbringing. No wasted movements. No uncertainty. Keen eyes knew how her husband would move before the instinct even percolated to become a true thought. In the same way Echani could rather accurately predict the outcome of battles long before they happened, in the same vein, that she had determined the eventual passing of a third of the Triumvirate—She navigated the steps of a languid waltz. His words about her presence in his reign caused golden eyes to momentarily soften. Many, including his council, would likely disagree.
Her lack of nobility and her unwillingness to wield the Emperor as a weapon drove the Sepulcher to the brink of madness. She was not the Empress the Sith had asked for—But she would do what was necessary. What was
required.
"You give me too much credit, meldanya.", her voice was low and filled with surprising sincerity as deliberate footsteps traversed a den of snakes and supplicants. The
smile that he attempted for her benefit reminded her of her Maliphant, more, than he knew. The temptation to draw nearer to the Corpse King was stifled by their audience. By…Limitations his current state required that they observe. Still—Everything she was metaphysically reached for him.
"…You would find a way."
"You are my constant."
The familiar affectionate term that he used, moon and stars, meant more than it had any right to. It reminded her that Maliphant was not entirely gone, that he, and Empyrean were one and the same. Still there. Still…Hers. They had weathered countless storms merely by leaning on one another when the situation called for it. Their unity, sameness, allowed them the ability to offer relative stability. His strength and resilience complemented her need for strategy and subtlety.
"Without you to scare, infuriate, inspire, or provide a line they dare not cross……"
"The Order would have likely been consumed by its own ambition long ago. Our people might seem unruly...But they are, for better or worse, our people. Our younglings. They thrive at your boundary."
Empyrean knew how she felt in that regard.
Their children came first. 
