Historian
Anet Raine was rather reclusive as of late, spending more time aboard the Starwind Epiphany, a 'borrowed' yacht from her father's fleet; her home. The opulent vessel hummed in its slow dance, falling ever gently in Coruscant's gravity.
Aboard, the half-pantoran secluded herself in study, rarely leaving her suite save for the base necessities. But hours earlier, she had sent a message to Kirie Corsell.
"Come aboard my ship. We need to talk." Her tone urgent and arrogant as always, with that something else secreted between the lines.
The starship groaned when the shuttle finally docked, and Anet turned to face the door as it slid open moments later. She offered Kirie a mixed expression of impatience and smug knowing. Like, somehow her arrival was a victory for Anet in and of itself... But something was missing. Raine's presence in the Force - it wasn't there, but something sickly and sinister was. Nearby, not a person, but certainly alive.
Anet cracked a slight grin. "Well," she stretched both arms out as if presenting. "What do you think?"
Her suite was a mess, if stronger words seemed impolite. Bed? A disaster buried under expensive clothes, someone like Kirie would toil to afford a fraction of. Then there was a desk converted into an alchemical station, and the signs of some half-finished ritual in one corner; Anet stood at the center of it all. But it wasn't the room to which she referred. It was that thing which was impossible to ignore. Other than herself.
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