May I Still Kill You?

[Scherezade deWinter]

It had been four months since the day Haseria. Since that day that all of her grandmother's hatred and inherited racism had bubbled up inside the brain and emotion of the young Scherezade deWinter. She had seen her first Mandalorian Armor that day, and the rage had overtaken her. In that rage, she had located the weak spots in the armor and used a little knife to kill that Mandalorian.

At the time, she had not known that he was Metus - the leader of the Confederacy, someone who was protected by way too many people within the Confederacy who just would not let him die and stay dead. It had been a clusterkrak from start to finish, ending with her being injured and him getting uber healed. It was unfair.

Later, Katrine had mentioned that it was her uncle, and Scherezade had, in an act of good faith, bumped him down on her kill list, all the way to last place. It was a very generous thing of her to do, seeing as the kill list was growing almost by the day. She could almost turn it into a religion if she had been the person to do religions in the first place.

In the days since then, she had been forced, on more than one occasion, to work with Mandalorians. She still hated them, but she could be around them these days without her rage taking over and her brain shutting off as she senselessly put all the pointy ends in all their bodies. Some would call it a character growth. Others would call it a weakness.

And here she was now, Scherezade deWinter, standing on Ryloth, at the first place her eyes had seen when she broke free from her pebble - the Floating Rocks.

And she had no idea what she was doing there.



[member="Darth Metus"]

 

[Malok]

Floating Gardens, Ryloth
Local Time: 13:17

It had been four months since the wound had been inflicted.

Four months since the Vicelord incurred visions of the future. Four months since the seed of doubt had been placed into his mind. Darth Metus was never one to place too much stock in prophecy or glimpses into the future. He certainly did not ascribe to a belief system revolving around destiny. Since the moment of his first steps, he believed that his own choices dictated his future. He was the one in control of where the chips fell; and not some omnipotent construct known as Fate.

But on Haseria, Muad Dib had challenged that belief system. While he attempted to keep the wound inflected by [member="Scherezade deWinter"] at bay, his Shatterpoint afforded a glimpse at numerous possible futures. All of them were more bleak and terrifying than the last. All of them revolved around the Tyranny of Darth Metus and the corruption of the Southern Systems. All of them seemed inevitable - for the Tyrant in every vision was not scarred by some trauma yet to unfold.

He was simply Darth Metus.

He was simply...alone.

At times, the Sith would lose himself in the worries that came from these thoughts. He would retire from his home, Sinner's Well, and wander the populated areas of his newfound homeworld Ryloth. One day, he might throw on a basic poncho and disappear into a busy marketplace. On others, he might ride his speederbike in one direction until he felt like coming back. This day, he found himself before a local spectacle. A Garden of Floating Rocks.

And here, upon one of these mammoths which defied gravity, did he sit. The Sith did not meditate often. He did not place much stock in the exercises made popular by the Jedi and other likeminded Orders. But today, his eyes were closed and his body relaxed as the afternoon sun stared down. He ignored the sweat which beaded his brow. He ignored the heat which burned the tips of his ears. All that mattered were the visions that played before his mind's eye - over, and over, and over.

And as the young Pebble herself arrived at the Gardens, Darth Metus had a realization.

The bleak futures had one thing in common. They all lacked [member="Srina Talon"].

[member="Scherezade deWinter"]

 

[Scherezade deWinter]

Shyt.

Shyt.

She had been standing for a precious few seconds before she realized the presence of another around her. A presence she had not remembered intellectually, but her senses remembered very well - it was the presence of Darth Metus, the very man she almost killed, and the clusterkrak that had followed had placed the young Sithling in quite the unfavorable position among many within the CIS.

And now they were both here.

Alone.

Scherezade looked around, pinning down the floating rock that he was sitting on. If he knew she was there, he made no motion to show it, or at least, not one that she could detect. Why was he here? This was her place, this was where her prison had shattered. And Katrine hadn't known this place existed, which had led Scherezade to believe that few people really did.

She groaned. The choices were simple; she could go say hi and hope he didn't try to stab her in return for that day on Haseria, or she could run away. And since he was much more powerful than she was with the Force, she had little doubt that he had senses her presence. Running away would be unforgivable. She'd be laughing stock.

The young Sithling swallowed her pride and made the Force Jump onto the floating rock that he'd been meditating on. She hadn't been on the rocks before, and the sensation was... Slightly weird.

With a sigh, she looked at Darth Metus. "Nice weather, uh?" she offered, her awkwardness much, much more pronounced than she had wished.


[member="Darth Metus"]

 

[Malok]

Was that the key?

His thoughts raced as the common denominator hung before his eyes. Was it so simple? Would his future be that much better if the alabaster woman stayed by his side? No. Maybe? He was looking too far into this. There was no guarantee that this was the truth...he had no idea what the future looked like with [member="Srina Talon"]. Only without. But there were ways to know for certain, were there not? The Ember o-

Nice weather, huh?

A foreign voice invaded his ears, causing the Sith Lord to tense immediately. His attention snapped over to the source of the interruption - sulfuric eyes now burned into the skull of one [member="Scherezade deWinter"]. And...it took a few seconds for him to realize who had invaded his personal space. He thought that, having been so far above the ground, he would be able to enjoy some semblance of peace.

But that was not the case.

The Sith was suddenly reminded of the fiery pain that had shot up his spine that day. The agony of his life being stolen. The subsequent, attempted murder by his former Apprentice. The visions. The recovery. All caused by the young, confused woman standing in front of him. "It's a little warm, but can't complain." he responded simply.

"You're the ward of [member="Katrine Van-Derveld"], correct? The one with a good knife hand, if I recall correctly."

He couldn't help himself. He wasn't going to kick the young woman off the rock - no matter how satisfying it would be - so instead he settled for being a little bit...wrathful. "It was never explained to me why you decided to attack on Haseria. And Katrine insisted that I do not condemn you for it. So tell me...Were you bewitched?"

[member="Scherezade deWinter"]

 

[Scherezade deWinter]

Scherezade nodded. She wasn't just good with her knife now. She was good with multiple knives, moving and controlling them with the Force all at once, even while using her hands for two of them. Her entire body beneath her clothes was decked with a dozen of them, ready to come out and defend herself at a moment's notice.

But he didn't need to know that.

The bummering thing though, was that it appeared that he had not noticed her before she'd spoken. Not at all. She could've just gone away, walked away, run away, it didn't matter, and he wouldn't have known any better. Once again, Scherezade deWinter had made the wrong krakking choice. She was seriously going to have to learn how to improve on that.

And now he wanted to talk? He'd asked her she'd been... bewitched. She knew what Kat had said about what the official story was. But now she was being questioned directly, and she already knew she was a stinking bad liar.

"No," she replied with simplicity, "the official story is a cover up. A pretty good one though. You should really invest in better armor. Too many weak spots. I saw all of them that night, but I only remember the one beneath the heart right now."

With that, she sat down next to him, her legs kicking freely in the air, like a child on a tall chair.


[member="Darth Metus"]

 

[Malok]

The answer was the furthest thing from satisfying.

He wanted to give this girl, the ward of his "niece", an out. A reason for him not to despise her with everything that he was. A reason for there not to be any tension between he and the Nightmother. But there was no justification to be had.

"I'm aware of what the official story states." came his admittedly blunt response. "I approved it, after all."

A hot exhale escaped him.

"You are not daft. You do not strike me as having any deformities or abnormalities. I have not heard or read anything stating otherwise either. So why. Why would you risk your head to attack me?"

"Did I hurt you in the past?

[member="Scherezade deWinter"]

 

[Scherezade deWinter]

She did not have abnormalities? Scherezade smiled. She was going to have to check what the file about her actually stated, an change it accordingly to her needs. But that would be a quest for another day. Right now, they were talking.

"You assume I attacked you a a subject, as an individual," she replied with a shrug, looking out at the grounds beneath the floating rocks. Nice floating rocks. "I did not see your face. I did not know who you are, not by name, not by title, not by rank."

She pulled a knife out, though her shoulders were relaxed. There was no intent on her end at stabbing him again, or even threatening to. She just needed something for her hands to do as they spoke.

"I attacked the Mandalorian armor that I saw," Scherezade said after a short pause, "there is a centuries long blood feud between the Mandalorians and my family. Those who know my family instantly know I am a part of it, even though I have only existed de-facto for the past few months. I am not safe around them, and they are not around me."

But there was more to it.

"Katrine later told me who and what you are," she readied herself for the grand finish, "so I bumped you down to the last person on my ever growing list of people who need to die merely because they exist."


[member="Darth Metus"]

 

[Malok]

When the Sith heard this, his expression...lost some of the frustration that had claimed it. While the justification would never hold up in a court before the Knights Obsidian, Darth Metus had a unique perspective on the matter. As the old saying went, Mandalorians have long memories. They were capable of holding blood feuds for centuries if provoked enough. Hell, even in the modern Galaxy there was still angst between Mandalore and the Force. Still.

And the young woman beside him was a victim of the feud. So young that, most likely, she grew up dealing with the fear of T-Visors. While he did not understand what she meant about existing for only a couple months, he did understand the implications of being a target. A sigh escaped him.

"I appreciate being bumped down the list, I suppose." he began.

Though he noticed the knife he made no visceral response. If she tried anything it would be easy to push her off the rock.

"I...am sorry that you have had to live with such a feud. Know that I am Mandalorian no longer. My family are Mandalorian no longer. You will find no feud with Mandalore here in the Confederacy."

[member="Scherezade deWinter"]

 

[Scherezade deWinter]

She gave a little laugh when he said he appreciated it. It didn't matter that this was one of those serious conversation, if someone said something like that, it'd always make her laugh. There was no malice in it; just a pure, almost child-like reaction.

The knife at present was being used to clean her nails. Scherezade wasn't very lady like. The red coat afforded to her by the CIS was probably the most lady-like thing she owned, and her mannerism was more or less the same. Jeans and shirts, combat boots... The works.

And then... He was no longer a Mandalorian?

Scherezade blinked, both at the apology and at the statement.

"The CIS has already made me work with Mandalorians after Haseria," she commented. It was true. There were even two she didn't want to kill on sight. But she didn't mean it as a way to rub anyone's nose into it. She hoped it was just a declaration of improved self control. "And if you're no longer a Mandalorian..." the young girl bit her lower lip and broke into a huge smile, "then I guess you're not on the kill list at all!"

She tossed the knife from her right hand to a left, and then held her newly freed hand to him, offering to shake it.

"Any of them coming after you in retribution for leaving?" she asked almost as an after thought, "I could use more live targets to improve my abilities."


[member="Darth Metus"]

 

[Malok]

The young woman was something else.

In fact, in terms of how she carried herself, [member="Scherezade deWinter"] was literally an inverse of his own Apprentice. Where the alabaster Echani was the pinnacle of class and ettiquette, this young woman stood with a knife cleaning her nails. The difference was jarring - but it made the young woman seem...genuine? When she extended her hand, eagerly declaring that he was no longer on the kill list, Darth Metus chuckled.

And gave her hand a light shake.

"I doubt that the Mandalorians will retaliate for my choice. They are more than happy to let anyone touched by the Force leave. They are like you - biased. They have been for a long time, but now the people who kept that bias in check are dead or gone."

He just rambled on for a second, not entirely sure why he had allowed her access to the vault of sodium in his chest.

"Anyway..."

[member="Scherezade deWinter"]

 

[Scherezade deWinter]

"Then you don't know your former people," Scherezade said somberly, taking her hand back after the shake. It was a nice shake, and any tension that may have been between her and [member="Darth Metus"] evaporated once it happened, at least on her side. She still wasn't good enough at reading people to know it was the same on his side.

"I've had reports coming in that they're letting that whole Force User Holocaust thing go," she explained, "there are probably a few more splinter groups, but it's not as major of a thing as it was half a year ago." It was funny. It had taken a surprise visit on her end to the Commenor systems to learn that. Still, the young Sithling had more than a few resources up her sleeve. She'd set a goal to become a deadly force to be reckoned with, and she was building towards it, one bleeding step after the other.

"And anyway, the whole blood war between them and my family began when they kidnapped and then adopted my grandmother's first born daughter into one of their clans, officially giving her that 'ika and everything," she added as an after thought, "they refused to return her, refused to give her up, and when my grandmother made the attempt to steal her back to where she belongs, the war erupted, and spread to the different family branches on our side, and different clans on their side. And many, on both sides, still remember it's going on, though I doubt many know why it even started."

Scherezade paused to take a breath.

"So anyway, it might take them time, and they might forget what they're doing it, but they're still going to come after you. An enemy knows its enemy better than its friends do. And when they do, should you call on me, I'll be ready to come and massacre them all."


[member="Darth Metus"]

 

[Malok]

"One thing to know about my former Home is that their Ferocity is tied to their King."

His response was plain, but was entirely true of the Mandalorian people. Whoever wore the crown of Sole Ruler became the heart of the culture. Their passions became the pulse of the people. During the Civil War, the reigns were held by a vicious tyrant in Ra Vizsla. Yet his successor was far more liberal.

And when the Sith heard of the origins of the blood feud, he shook his head. He was reminded of what had caused the hatred towards the Dark Side that had taken hold of his people when he was but a teenager. So many of his own generation did not even remember what caused it - and the various Sith Empires moved heaven and Earth attempting to smooth things over. But, Mandalorians simply remember that there once was cause for animosity...and that is reason enough to fight.

"You may be right. If the scales were entirely even - if the Mandalorians were as mighty as my Confederacy - then they might pursue me. They might pursue this feud with your kin. But right now, they are on the ropes. Hungry. Hated by nearly the entire Galaxy. For now, they will not come. But, we should not think that they never will."

He paused, chuckling at her offer.

"I'd be lucky to have you, should that massacre ever come. Lucky and happy."

[member="Scherezade deWinter"]

 

[Scherezade deWinter]

She wanted to firmly nod when he said he'd be lucky to have her, but then he added the word "happy" and Scherezade simply froze, staring at him. Was this meant to be some kind of a joke? She wasn't sure. Did he mean it? Again, she wasn't sure.

"Okay then," she said slowly, adding a little nod, still unsure as how to take it.

But what else was there left to say? Until the Mandalorians came, which they might not, there was nothing left to do between them.

"Guess I'll see you around," Scherezade said, and jumped off the floating rock. It wasn't too far from the ground anyway. She used the Force to make a decent landing, and began to walk towards the docks.


[member="Darth Metus"]