Private Morning People

[Darth Metus]

VAULT OF GLASS

...hirp...

...Chirp...

...Chirp!!!

When the sable-skinned man opened his eyes, he was greeted with a cool, gentle sight. The abyss was no longer a foreign realm to be feared, but a welcome reprieve from the brightness of Verun. It was not a typical occurrence that Darth Metus slumbered within his partner's realm, as there were adverse affects to his own mortality over time. But, the prior evening was the final day of the lunar cycle. Meaning, upon this rise, they could return to the world of the living together.

Now, personally, the Sith was more than content to sleep the day away underneath Elyria's excessively comfortable sheets. But, she had other plans. In fact, a bluejay born of glass was her messenger. It fluttered upon the man's chest, chirping and pecking in an attempt to rouse him for the day. "Alright, alright, you win little fella." he said, forcing himself upright.

He then turned, facing the "balcony" that connected to their "room." "I didn't take you for a morning person."​

Darth Elyria​

 

[Darth Elyria]

The quiet woman watched the nebulous abyss that passed for a skyline. Within it she plucked at threads that only she could see, woven fates, that told the story of the universe. Her eyes were endless. Black as pitch. Reflective light burned in onyx hollows; signaling that she had no soul of her own to bring to bear. Merely the mirror of what she saw. Her little birds, made of the umbral, of the deep, fluttered around the expansive bed while she watched worlds burn. Shine bright—As bright as they ever would.

Then…

As swiftly as they were born? They died. It was just that simple.

"Time holds no meaning.", she responded, almost airily, from the glossy black balcony. Something wispy that passed for fabric fell from beams and structures that lent to a traditional sense of home. It was eerie. But, it was her. Made of her being. Long dark hair slid through the mists and followed her like a billowing cloak while she turned, slowly, to watch the man rise.

The kiss of her mouth softened. Elyria was attempting to anchor herself still. To meet him halfway between worlds. It was only fair that she grant an acceptable answer. "I am not. I wake only when I wish to. Not a moment before. But, there is much to be done…"

The avian creature fluttered sharp wings before taking flight. It found her waiting finger and took perch, obediently, before it hopped up her arm and melted into the darkness of her hair. "Though I know you do not truly heed my warnings, my home, is poison to you."

"We cannot linger longer than the last light of the moon. The day beckons."

Darth Metus ​

 

[Darth Metus]

At first, the Sith said nothing. His mind was as an engine turning over in the cold of winter: slow to start, yet steady. Above his head, the fluttering of wings continued to push away the last vestiges of slumber. But, just as quickly as they had been born to wake the sable-skinned man, they vanished.

Time holds no meaning. She began. The cryptic tone of her voice caused a chuckle to fall from the man's lips. For her, he supposed, those words were true enough. She had lived eons, after all. But, cryptic words aside...she did affirm that she wasn't a morning person. "I can already smell how packed the schedule is."

Heavy was the head that bore the crown, after all.

She spoke a word of warning as Darth Metus set his bare feet upon the "floor." He said nothing at first, raising his arms above his head in a satisfying stretch. Then, amidst a yawn, he spoke. "I hear you. I can feel it eating at me." He minimized how he felt - of course he would. But agreed nonetheless.

"I'm ready when you are, oh Domina mine."

Darth Elyria​

 

[Darth Elyria]

She allowed him to settle in his thoughts while her little bird returned to her. From whence it came; One with shadows and dark. “It is not overly burdened by unpleasantness...”, she offered lightly while her eyes perceived that which he could not. The way energy moved through the vastness of space and pulled at little beings in the cosmos. Gifting, the known universe with the greatness they referred to as the force. “If I am to exist in your world…There are many things you must teach me.”

“Much that I must learn, beloved.”

Slowly she pulled from visions of the galaxy bursting and an empty expression slid across sharply etched features. His yawn, while accurate, for a mortal that had just awoken was concerning. Especially when he admitted that her realm was having him for breakfast. It wasn’t a surprise. Silent footsteps brought her across the onyx floor and black silks pulled after her bare feet. A delicate hand came to rest slowly on his forehead. A wave of power pressed from her palm before it slowly sank into his skin. A balm to the ire of her blasphemy. “We will depart soon enough.”

She hesitated. Elyria, became thoughtful.

“Were your dreams…acceptable?”

Her way of asking how he slept in her created realm was juvenile, underdeveloped, at best. It seemed that she had become used to forgetting how others might feel about something. That they may have wants or needs that did not coincide with her own. Her attempts to express her concerns were met with a fluttering of dark eyelashes as her hand left his skin.

She leaned forward and pressed a kiss to that same spot.

“I dreamed of oddities. The space between…Of a time when I was young. Different.”

Elyria didn’t remember much of that time.

Darth Metus

 

[Darth Metus]

"Beloved."

It was hard not to smile when such a simple word graced his ears. The journey to where they were had been long - mostly due to his own being a knucklehead. But now...he could actually say he was happy. "Man I love hearing that." he remarked. "And you're right, but the lessons aren't a one-way street. There's much I have to learn from you too."

"If I'm to make this last, I need to not be so...diplomatic."

It was hard to not look in the mirror and to compare what was now to what was then. Ruling a democracy for so long certainly took its toll. Compared to others bearing a crown and ruling, his fist was far less harsh. His mind was far more open. He knew - she knew - he had much to learn even now.

Yet, he did not linger on these thoughts, for he found her standing before him. He looked up, smiling, as she placed his hand upon his brow. "Am I running a fev-" Power. Darkness passed into his being and invigorated him. It was beyond shaking off the remnants of sleep, but rather...returning what had been consumed. The Sith flexed his fingers, feeling quite better already. Wordlessly, he thanked her by briefly placing his palm upon the back of her hand.

And then there was quiet. She was thoughtful in her question. Were his dreams...acceptable? At face value it was an odd question to ask - but Darth Metus could see the meaning. "It's quiet enough that I can dream." he admitted. For years, the noise of his thoughts kept his sleep light. But here, he could rest. He even recalled the walk of his mind - a dream of riding astride his Cin Bes'uliik, with both his white rabbit and his bride riding alongside him.

It felt as though his lips would never stop smiling, for she planted a kiss upon his brow. And then shared her own dream. "Huh. Never heard you mention your youth before. What do you remember from the dream?"

Perhaps she'd share something, anything, from her past.

Darth Elyria​

 

[Darth Elyria]

Darth Metus

"It is only the truth."

The simple response showed that Elyria didn't entirely understand the depth of what her altered words meant to him. No longer did she keep him at arm's length. No longer, did she treat him as a parent would a wayward child. He was coming into his own and she would do her best to acknowledge and facilitate that. Her lips slid into a pale smile at the notion that he had much to learn from her.

Of course, he did.

"Patience. We will get to that, beloved. You've already learned much…But I must learn to walk in your world or I will be of no use to you in the future."

There were rules that she needed to learn coupled with social expectations that she was required to abide. He would not be successful in his endeavors if she was not successful in navigating the galaxy as it currently existed. She cringed, visibly, when he mentioned diplomacy. The way he referred to such a thing was not the way she operated. If one did not bend to her will? They would be made, to bend.

Or such things would happen to that being, that happened to all things, when they refused to bend.

Isley did not typically employ such methods.

She did not pause while her hand rest against his forehead. No, he was not overly warm. But he was weakened from her Vault deciding that he was a food source. She could feel his acceptance, graciousness, at her gift and she merely remained. Elyria knew that his spirits were much lifted.

The dark one listened in silence while he explained how he had slept. That her realm was quiet. That their minds, for once, were quiet enough that he managed to dream at all. She let her lips linger on his forehead before pulling back to withdraw. She caught a glimpse of his dream. Just a shard—A fragment. She could see his want, rather than the images. The desire for his family to be as one.

"I do not recall much from that time.", Elyria admitted, slowly, as if it were some sort of weakness that she ought to hide. Even her name eluded her. The one she had been born with. Assuming, she had been born. That she had ever been human at all. "It is not clear, to me. That part of my past is hidden. The space of time before I became what I am now…It is beyond the deeper well. Beyond my sight."

Perhaps, self-inflicted. Perhaps she did not want to see.

"I was running from someone. Unafraid…But running. They chased me through fields of blue and up white steps to a large home. A palace, perhaps. I tripped in my haste. I fell—I might have fallen further if a man had not caught me. I was…", Elyria paused, her frown deepening. "A child. I cried…And the man smiled. He said that…I was always in a hurry. Never waiting, for time to hold me."

She blinked and pulled herself from the reverie. She felt a kinship with this man from her dream, but, it was distant. Little more than an echo. Her shoulders squared and she straightened.

"It was nonsense, obviously."

Obviously.

 

[Darth Metus]

It is only the truth.

The Sith said nothing - at first - in response to those words. Rather, he simply raised his dominant hand. Since the moment of his choice, she had branded him with a physical manifestation of her affections. No longer were they an ocean apart, they were finally one. Darth Metus flexed his fingers with clear intent, saying: "Don't I know it." To say he was happy with his decision was an understatement.

Of course, there was talk of what laid ahead for the day. And for a moment, the Sith looked forward. He was intent on seeing his empire stand the test of time. But before he could focus on such lofty horizons, he had to assist his lover in mastering the demands of the day. Elyria said as much, to which Darth Metus nodded in agreement.

"You're right...Well, today we'll be holding court. It's a rare chance for the people and our vassals to share their concerns." he began, noting that she visibly cringed when he mentioned the word diplomacy. "Unlike the Confederacy, we don't have to walk on eggshells, thankfully."

Ah, but then came the gift. The refreshment from the ravages of the Vault. Darth Metus was indeed grateful and smiled at her touch. And as they conversed about his rest the night before, the Sith could truly feel the depths of her boon. He felt as energized as the moment he had first set foot into the dark realm. It was because of this feeling that he was so eager to share his memories of his previous dream. A reality where his daughter and wife were whole, safe, and together. A reality close to the one he lived. He was always so close to what he wanted...perhaps now he could finally catch it.

Then, Elyria spoke of her own past. Or rather, the lack of knowledge about that time. She admitted that she did not know much of those years, however long ago they might be. Darth Metus listened intently - as it was so seldom to hear even bits and pieces about what was once past. And her dream...it was beautiful.

"Nonsense, my ass." he said, shaking his head with a chuckle. "There is nothing about you that doesn't have a purpose. You don't dream of unicorns shitting rainbows. This...this is a piece of you. Something you've long forgotten I'd imagine." He motioned towards her with dominant hand, smiling. "Sounds to me like you remembered your home for the first time in ages. Your family. Maybe consider...holding onto that memory."

Darth Elyria​

 

[Darth Elyria]

Elyria released her lover so that she might make herself presentable for his court to observe.

It was the first time she would be formally introduced to the people of the Ascendency as the wife of the Dominus. More than that, the Domina. She could not appear overly embellished nor stricken with poverty. Severe, but not without kindness. It was mind-boggling. She had read on the Holonet that even the color of her frock might offend. Black, was all she knew. Her gaze settled on him neatly when he suggested that things would be different… "They are not so different, yet. Your children will need to learn that they have a new father. New rules. It will take time to adapt."

"To obey."

Younglings did not learn new habits overnight. They required constant correction and instruction. Both stick and carrot. The shadow that made her clothing began to shift and warp around her form. She chose something simple, black, but with a shock of white around the collar. Luxurious locks pulled back from the rest of the room and drew themselves into a style that seemed fitting. Half-up, half-down. The length swept the back of her knees and curled at the ends.

She brushed her fingers over her arms and dark pearls laced themselves along the space between her elbow ad shoulders. The material held to her form tightly before splitting at the knee so she could walk properly. The same pearls dotted her hair, her earrings, while a new shock of white also decorated the hem. Little white, lace gloves hid her fingers. Her make-up was soft. "Will this be acceptable?", she questioned, adjusting the collar, with her rose brand exposed.

His assessment of her dream caused her to frown. Instinct told her to snap back and shut him down but their new circumstances had changed things. He was ignorant, no longer. Instead, she took a moment to consider it. Could her dream be rooted in fact? In more than myth or the mistaken dream of some human mind, she had once wandered through?

It was possible, she supposed.

The Lady of Night moved toward him and slowly inclined her head while the laces of high heels moved slowly up her legs. Like snakes. "…I will try, Isley."

Elyria as far as she knew had no family. No one to miss her, no one to want, or love her, save the man who sat in her bed. That was how it had always been. There was only him. No one else.

There never had been.

"…But I make no promises."

Darth Metus

 

[Darth Metus]

"And obey they shall."

The Sith watched as his beloved stepped away. Though his regarding of the day had been lighthearted thus far, the gravity of Darth Elyria's introduction was paramount. Seven years ago, when the Confederacy yet stood, few outside of his inner circle knew of the primordial one. Some may have witnessed her form tolerating the waning political gatherings of the Viceroyalty towards the end - but none within the nation bent the knee before her. This reality ended today - for the Ascendancy was no democracy. As an empire, leadership of all rested within the Sith's capable grasp.

And for the first time since the Day of Landing, he was sharing his power. Sharing his control. Sharing his crown. The people would see that the Dominus did not rule alone. And the Domina would prove her might and wisdom. Thus, Darth Elyria took special care to dress herself appropriately. The Vault obeyed her whims, and in but mere moments the primordial woman was donned in a striking contrast of black and white. Darth Metus offered a genuine smile as he rose from the side of the bed.

"Acceptable? My dear, if we had the time, I'd..." he let his chuckle fill in the blanks. Suffice it to say, the Dominus was very pleased by her appearance. It was then that he witnessed a glimpse of himself reflected upon the glasslike features of the room. Though so much time had passed, habit had seen his own appearance as being identical to that of the old Confederacy. Clean cut, neat and proper. In fact, if someone demanded he put on a tie, he would have done so without thinking. But the realm of politics was not him. It was a garb that he had donned out of necessity.

No. He was a Warrior-King.

And anything his beloved could do, he could attempt to imitate. His hands ran over his scalp, and the darkness obeyed his whims. Cascading dreadlocks manifested where once a clean fade resided. Emerald flame then roiled down from his neck, swimming upon his flesh. In its wake, it left armor - obsidian in hue - ensnared by a cloak. The Sith nodded, pleased with his own reflection, before turning to his bride. "I believe this is the man you love." he said, finally comfortable in his own skin.

From thence, they spoke of her dream. Of what laid locked behind memory and shrouded by eons. She drew near, her head slowly inclining with each step. Darth Metus, instinctively, reached out. His hands found her waist gingerly, whilst his lips graced her brow. "Trying is all I ask. Now, onto the court." He said simply. He would not dwell upon her dream - upon her past - for that was a subject that was to be lightly touched. If at all.

Instead, he set her mind towards what awaited them beyond the Vault.

"There are two types of leader within our empire. Those who I have chosen to rule a world in my name. And those rulers who have wisely rallied to our cause. As you can imagine, the latter tends to be more...demanding...with their needs. Now, let's say I am absent for war and you are attending court. How will you deal with their needs?"

A test. But also, a curiosity. Darth Metus eagerly awaited her thoughts.

Darth Elyria​

 

[Darth Elyria]

Darth Metus

Elyria nodded her head, slowly.

She had reservations as to whether or not the zebra could change stripes to spots—But time would tell. Isley seemed quite determined to turn over this new leaf. Far be it from her to discourage him. The ebony-haired creature knew how important this day was. She would need to consider every word and act very carefully. She couldn't skin one of his supplicants for holding merely disrespectful or subordinate thoughts, nor, could such a meeting end in bloodshed.

It was not her way. But, it was his.

She would learn.

Her brow rose just slightly while he took a moment to appreciate her form. Rather, the wrapping paper, that she chose for the convenience of his court. Onyx orbs grew curious when she felt him pull on the darkness within the void. Imitating, the way she changed. Her hair was part of her. Prehensile and alive—Yet he managed to change, all the same. A pensive expression touched her while dark armor rolled across his form. She was wary when he used power, here.

What he gave? The Vault took.

The pale woman slid across the glass floor. Her feet barely touched the ground, not even, while wearing dangerously high heels on such a slick surface. She neared because he bid that she do so. Silently, or otherwise. "I have loved you twice in the same life. I suppose I will love you in the next as well…Your appearance was never the problem.", she murmured while a disturbingly familiar hand fell to the small over waist. Her hands rose to rest against his newly made armor. Displays of affection were getting easier, more natural, with time. "Yes. To court."

He was willing to let her dreams stay that way. Fragments. She appreciated the opportunity to either work through it on her own or forget all about it. Her lack of memory had often bothered her in the past but there were times when she wondered if it might not have been for the best. Perhaps, there was a reason she could not remember.

Elyria moved slowly toward the exit while Isley asked what seemed to be a simple question. Sharply arched eyebrows seemed to furrow for a moment before she reached, momentarily, toward the empty air. A rift began to split at her command. "It depends on the need. On how they…Convey their request."

"You will need to be more specific, beloved."

 

[Darth Metus]

Before there was a Vicelord, there was a Mand'alor.

Though the past decade had been spent with suits and ties, within the Sith still beat a heart of iron. He was no stranger to the burdens of ruling - nor was the absence of democracy a foreign ideal. Still, it would take some time for the tolerant habits of recent history to wane. It was ironic in a way. During the height of the Confederacy, Elyria had encouraged him to rule. Now, in the midst of their empire, he was teaching her how to court. The thought in of itself was amusing enough that Darth Metus smirked ever so slightly.

And speaking of the Court, the matter of attire was addressed forthwith. Elyria draped herself with obsidian and white, and the Sith got comfortable. He quipped that this form was the man she loved, but she glided close to him. Her hands settled upon his armor, obsidian eyes meeting his own. Appearance was never the problem, eh? Maybe it was his hard-headed nature. "Oh come now, surely you have a preference?" he said in a bemused tone. "And don't tell me you don't. Everyone has a preference."

From thence they moved - Elyria leading the way towards the exit. The brief subject of her dream was just that: brief. The decision to delve deeper into her past rested in the primordial woman's hands alone. As for Darth Metus, he would support her decision however he could. If she chose to simply forget, so be it. But if she chose to remember, he would be right there. If nothing else, the primordial woman would know she was no longer alone. The Vault would not be a realm of solitude and observation. She had him, evermore.

As they walked together, the Sith posed a hypothetical about a Court scenario. A seemingly simple distinction was drawn between those who were appointed and those who surrendered. And from that distinction, he asked how she would deal with their needs. It was a loaded question, one meant to suss out any sort of instinctual thoughts on ruling. But, ever the perceptive woman, Elyria required more details first. The Sith obliged, nodding as they passed the threshold of their "bedroom." The transition from their sleeping quarters to the living world was seamless. In fact, if one blinked, they would have missed it.

The main distinction between Point A and Point B was the heat. Though the Palace was certainly far cooler than the rest of the capital, it paled in comparison to the Vault. The Sith rolled his shoulders for a moment, chuckling. "And we're back." he mused, before answering her question.

"One who has surrendered demands that their contract be modified. They have no leg to stand on, outside of the fact that the realm relies on one of their exports quite heavily. They believe this resource gives them room to speak to you without reverence. How do you address their request?"

Darth Elyria​

 

[Darth Elyria]

Darth Metus

"I do not.

Elyria had no preference toward his state of dress. Save, for a lack of it. No matter how he trimmed his beard or the skin he currently housed; he held her focus for far more reasons than aesthetics. That didn't mean that she couldn't, or didn't, appreciate what was given. It simply wasn't the end of the line. It was true that perhaps most people had a type. In some ways...She did. She merely had one. It was simply very, very specific. Him.

Just him—In any form.

Her hips swayed in a soft gait that seemed to exude pure confidence. No matter how unfamiliar the subject matter was the Mistress of Glass was determined not to let it show. She feared nothing. No one. And certainly not some vapid peasant who thought he had the right to speak her name when not on bended knee. The bright light that filled her vision when they left her world did give her reason to pause. It was almost too bright for her.

Nevertheless, she pushed through it.

Her feet actually made noise when they touched that of the waking world. The steady click of her heel was only marred by the faint sound of silken fabric pooling behind her when she moved. Her beloved elaborated on the puzzle that he had presented her with, though, by the end of it he would see her smile spread far too wide. Too many teeth that split the side of her face with an expression that would have brought sheer terror into the heart of any passerby. "Oh. I like this game, Isley."

Disrespect was perhaps the swiftest way to bring out the bloodthirsty beast from within. Her gruesome smirk was coupled with a laugh that was so deep it almost sounded male. It echoed—With more than one voice that ended in a low growl. "He has requested, nothing. He has chosen to make demands."

No one demanded anything of Elyria.

"I would remind him of his place. If he proves incapable of decorum in the face of the crown, we will find someone that can serve better. I am certain that there are thousands of businessmen that would love his contract and his fortunes.", the dark-haired woman ground out, though, as she continued her features began to soften once more. As if it were a trick of the light or a mere illusion. "When he pleads for forgiveness, and he will, I will consider his deeds and productivity. If he has earned the modifications, he seeks I will consider passing the matter on to your Lady Creed."

"If he has not…"

Perfectly full lips seemed to settle on a secretive smile, though, she kept pace with the man at her side. "If he has not…He will be denied, and dismissed, with a deadline. If he cannot meet our expectations within a certain timeframe he may face sanctions, or, unemployment."

Elyria paused, briefly, to glance out at the skyline. It truly was bright here. Onyx eyes averted and her focus turned inward to the sable-skinned man at her side. "We cannot tolerate weakness. Craven, greedy, capitalists that get fat on the backs of others are the breaking points in any society. It is the reason for rebellions and riots. That cannot stand."

"Our people will carry their own weight. They will enjoy the fruits of what they earn. No one will take that from them."

 

[Darth Metus]

I do not.

Darth Metus knew that tone. There were times when the primordial woman spoke her truth as simple fact. As if what she were saying was as sound as the laws of physics. In this case, despite his playful goading, Elyria advised she had no preference. Upon hearing this, the Sith kept his own thoughts on the matter under lock and key. If she so desired, she could peer into his mind as the usual. But he wouldn't dare let his own thoughts slip verbally.

His preference? Her - with either hair down or the half-up-half-down number she'd pull during their occasional sparring matches. Either would make him weak in the knees. But if she knew how much power her hairdo held, it'd be the end of him. Hell, if her hair knew, every lock wouldn't let him live it down. So, he simply smiled and walked with her out into the world of the living.

The click of her heels and the thud of his boots heralded their arrival. And as the Sith posed his question, his gaze would find a world filled with teeth. A lesser being might have been unnerved to the core by her actual smile - but Darth Metus found it...oddly comforting. She only grinned from ear to ear when she was genuinely enjoying herself. Or, when she was about to eat something very alive, very human, and very appetising.

Fortunately, he was not on the menu and it was the scenario that she was enjoying. She painted a picture that was heralded by a bonechilling laugh. The depths of her voice sounded as many as she spoke her thoughts. And Darth Metus simply stroked the stubbled which had sprouted upon his chin, nodding along as they walked.

"Good. We are of one mind when it comes to scenarios like this." he began. "You will find that there are those who overvalue their contributions. They will believe that they bring so much to the table, or that they have the support of so many, that they are irreplaceable. During the Confederacy, I learned the hard way that we cannot allow perceived value to sway our decisions. They will come correct or not all."

With thus said, his pace paused when the primordial woman looked out at the skyline. He, too, spared a glance and found his eyes following the ascent of a starship. But then, Elyria spoke once more. "Ah, you bring me to the other side of the coin." He smirked ever so slightly. "Assume that one of our vassals comes before us with struggles. They are hardworking, but weak. Their fields do not yield no matter what they do. Their minds remain empty no matter how deep they dig. How will you handle requests of charity from those who are indeed weak?"

Darth Elyria​

 

[Darth Elyria]

To her credit—She tried.

Elyria had done her best to keep from lifting thoughts from the surface of his mind but it wasn't always so simple. She couldn't unhear something when it was being metaphysically screamed in her incorporeal ear. At the very least; she was better at not always commenting on it. One day, he would learn to shield himself properly from her.

Today was not that day.

He would find onyx orbs burrowing holes through him for several moments before she tore her eyes away. Strangely, saying nothing. It pleased her enough to know that they held a similar thought process on his newfound regime. At the very least, she knew it would try. There were just far more steps required than simply saying it to be thus. It required act; Proof—That this was how things would operate from here on out. None of this foolish…Democratic nonsense.

Instead of commenting further, she accepted the passing remarks, and focused on the next moral dilemma he presented. Elyria did not always understand subjects of a sensitive nature and it showed by the way her eyes narrowed. "…Why are you trying to deceive me?"

The accusatory statement was ushered with a little bit of fire behind her tongue. The multi-toothed grin did not reappear but her ire was rising. He would feel it in worlds between worlds like a dark tidal wave pushing toward the surface of the real. Like it might implode at any moment.

"I do not accept this side of your coin, Isley Verd. Your statements and assumptions about this fictitious peasant are contradictory at best."

Elyria huffed while they walked and her arms crossed beneath her chest. Her elbows were pointed rather dangerously, though, the wave of unhappiness she felt was palpable. She did not like the notion of being misled. Even for the purposes of instruction. "The peasant may not be simultaneously hardworking and weak. If he does the same amount of work as the rude exporter—That does not mean his efforts are less."

"The peasant asks not for charity.", Elyria spat it out as if it were a word of curse. She did not understand such a ridiculous concept. That, was mortal. That was weak. "The peasant seeks the opportunity to perform the tasks we require. Creating prospects for advancement falls on the governing body. The common man cannot be expected to succeed if his betters merely watch him toil away in mines and farmlands that are bound for failure. We should punish ourselves for our inaction."

"We have scientists, do we not? Agriculturists, geologists, botanical, and terraforming engineers…", she trailed off, still, a little incredulous toward the inquiry. It seemed to be something that a child could have figured out. A nation was only as strong as its weakest link. "We can teach them how to work the land or make it so that it can be worked. If the mines are empty? Change their job description. Task them with finding new mines. When they find one that is profitable—Update accordingly."

Her arms stayed crossed, still, dubiously giving Darth Metus a side-eye.

"A laborer cannot produce without the proper tools...You would owe this peasant an apology."

Darth Metus​

 

[Darth Metus]

Why are you trying to deceive me?

Ah, if only the Sith Lord had the ability to smile with rows of sharp teeth. If only his visage could mirror her true glee - for she had caught onto his 'test' the moment it was spoken. He could feel the pang of annoyance rising within her; and it did not take the Force to do so. Simply knowing one's partner for a lengthy span of time was enough. At once, she pointed out the contradictory nature of his scenario.

That was be design, causing him to nod as if he were a proud parent watching his child's first steps. Elyria, conversely, was not as amused. She huffed and crossed her arms beneath her chest as she stepped. And for a moment, the Sith entertained the notion of abandoning the inquiry and making nice with his empress. But, he needed to know. There was much that they were of one mind about - specifically when it came to the absence of democracy and their authority being respected.

But Darth Metus needed to see what kind of ruler Darth Elyria was. He needed to see whether she was the type of empress who would cast a cold shoulder to the peasant and have them till barren soil until their demise. Or if they were the sort who would uplift the shattered one's situation so that they could succeed. He was sniffing about for the corruption that had led their contemporaries across multiple Sith Empires to fall so quickly.

Her answer was more than satisfactory. The Sith clapped his hands together triumphantly.

"Good. Good. That is what I wanted to hear." he began, pausing so that he might step in front of her. The interruption to her strides was certain to gain more ire, but he had braved the lion's den on more than one occasion.

"There are two key reasons why I worded that scenario as I did. Firstly, I wanted to see where you head was. Specifically, if you had any of the same mindsets about the weak as our 'fellow' Sith. You know my history well - you know I've worked decades to distance myself from the endless cycle of corruption and failure that is a typical Sith Empire. So I had to ask."

"Besides, your thoughts on the average civilian have never come up. So please do not be too cross with me. Second, and arguably more important, politicians of any caliber have silver tongues. Our vassals, however loyal and obedient, can at times be no different than the Viceroyalty we left behind. Words are twisted. Meanings are lost. It is important to see through the gilded words and contradictory statements to stab at the truth of the matter. In this, you've done well."

"I'd say, you are more than ready to rule our Court."

He then offered his arm. "Shall we?"

Darth Elyria​

 

[Darth Elyria]

She snapped teeth at him that were much too sharp for the dark and delicate woman she seemed intent on displaying for his court. Even her make-up was lighter. No red lipstick—No dark kohl liner around the eyes. If one looked close enough at such milk-sallow skin they might have even been able to detect a hint of warming freckles. “I do not like it when your tongue is forked.”

“If you wish to know—Ask.”

He stopped her from walking forward and she almost phased right through him out of sheer annoyance. She liked it when the possibility of putting some simple-minded businessman in his place sat on the table. She liked it less when it felt like her own competence was in question. It was true that her mind was neither here nor there from time to time—But such a fate had not dulled her wits. She was not some insipid cow that would eat grass, simply, because it was present.

The explanation that followed made her ruffled feathers a little less prominent but a low growl in the back of her throat should have been warning enough. “I know enough to know that feasting on your court isn’t the appropriate first course of action. My solution will not always be to eat them.”

Not always.

By that same turn, there were occasions where devouring their flesh and soul would be a more than apt punishment for certain crimes. Some men, women, and everything else in-between simply didn’t deserve to live. Elyria had no problem making that distinction. She had no reason to care about most mortal beings for any reason. Their lifespans were so insignificant—But this place was different.

It mattered to Isley—So it mattered to her.

He wanted to wear the Crown?

So be it.

“I am not and have never been what you call a Sith. These weak minds that have been whittled away with dogma and overly masticated religion. They are fine with being spoon-fed, pre-determined, regurgitated slop. I would never debase myself in such a way.”

He thought he needed to ask when truly, her partner should have already known. She reached up to touch the rose brand on her chest and something flashed through her. She frowned, but, did not explain. The proud woman side-stepped his arm with her head held high and began to continue on toward the designated area. The politicians, the vassals, the peasants, the viceroy—Whatever they were called this time around—Had never dealt with someone like her. She didn’t intend to hide from his people.

Their people.

In time they would know exactly what she was capable of. They would know of the restraint she exuded—They would fear her for many, many moons to come. But that was the way. Tyranny had a price. Absolute rule had a price. Most often? That price was the one thing no ruler ever wanted to pay…Love. Sacrificing the love of one's people versus their success and prosperity was a well-worthwhile trade. In choosing the step down from the Vault she had chosen to safeguard a nation of mayflies. So small, but they did belong to her.

Heaven help that which crossed them.

“I was born to conquer, Dominus. It would serve you well not to forget it.”

Darth Metus​

 

[Darth Metus]

I do not like it when your tongue is forked.

The illustration could not be clearer. For his eyes alone were rows of ever-sharp teeth which snapped. Her porcelain flesh seemed all the more pallid. With but another metaphysical step, she could have represented the serpent she accused his tongue of being. It was a small miracle that she did not phase right through him out of annoyance. But she heard his words - enough so that he could see some of the fire in her eyes die down, but there was an inferno nonetheless.

"This is how I teach. This is how I prepare. You have seen my everything, you know there is no malice in it." he answered.

And this was true. The woman had all but memorized every page in his history, from the moment he first drew breath to the dizzying pathways his tomorrow might take. Thus, she knew how he taught. How he inquired. This was nothing out of the ordinary for his nature, past or present. Though he could completely understand her annoyance in the moment, the question of her nature and preparing her for the buzzards of court were a necessity.

But what she said next came as a surprise.

The entire time, the Vault had whispered a single name to the Dominus. From the moment she had trespassed into his mind above Kuat to the very present, Darth Elyria had been what he had known. But in this breath, she dismissed that heritage as if it were chaff on the wind. His gaze did not miss that she reached for the brand upon her chest before striding past, ignoring his offer. And the Sith did not move. Rather, as she so willing it, he wished to know, so he would ask.

"The entire time we have been together." he began, folding his arms. "Your name has been Darth Elyria. Such is the name the Vault whispers to me when I sleep. Such is the name that I dream of. I know you were born to conquer, your very name is challenge to the stars - as is mine. But with that name comes a heritage - and now you tell me you have never been apart of it?"

"I know you are mine. I know you are Domina. But are you truly Darth? Or is this an echo from who you used to be?" He resumed his strides then.

"Understand, my love, I do not have the same fortune as you. I am not able to know who you were before we met. I cannot see your first steps or the events which shaped you. I only know the queen who stepped into my life on Kuat. So please forgive - for I can only act off of what I know know..."

Darth Elyria​

 

[Darth Elyria]

Darth Metus

"If this is how you teach, beloved, you may well lose a finger."

Her words were a little less waspish but no less imperious than they had been moments prior. She was not one of his students, nor, his white-rabbit apprentice that responded to being led by the nose. The deception might have felt necessary to the Dominus but it was neither here nor there. It would behoove him to remember that just because he felt her aware of his every machination did not mean that she had experienced it. Nor, taken it well.

The sable-skinned man seemed to balk at her blatant dismissal of the Sith.

So much so that his query drew an almost fiendish laugh from deep within the recesses of her chest. It was warm, layering fire to his heart, but equally cruel and sharp. It ended in a low rumbling growl that was reminiscent of tectonic plates grinding against one another. The misinterpretation of her meaning was something she could forgive if only because she infinitely cared for the shape and form from which such ignorance had sprung. "Foolish, Isley…I am Darth Elyria."

Her tone was a little gentler than it had been. His deference and acceptance of missing parts of the whole made her think almost kindly toward his disposition. He looked upon things with mortal eyes, wants, and desires. That would change as his knowledge of the universe expanded to meet her own. All things would be as they were meant to. In time. "You are forgiven."

"All men are ignorant. The topics of your ignorance may change, but the nature of the galaxy is such that no man may know everything. So—I cannot fault you for that which you cannot command."

The ends of onyx hair turned in the faint breeze while she let her form face him once more. Her gown twisted at the knees, just enough, so that she almost resembled a dark flower being carried in vase. Slender fingers with nails that were a little too sharp still lingered along the edges of the rose-shaped brand that had risen from his fire. "Do you think that these cretins that currently fight amongst themselves for power are what I have come to be?"

"I am not what you call a Sith because your Masters of the Dark are children playing at a game they cannot comprehend. I am Sith. They, are merely shadows of greatness. Whispers of the truth. Pretenders to the Throne of the Sith and deceivers to all those who lobby for their lost causes."

It was a simple case of the blind leading the blind. Their bloodline was polluted, and watered down, so much so that their might was almost inconsequential without a vast army and a legion of ships to enforce control. The dark-haired woman slowly reached for his hand and let careful digits wrap around his with care—So that she might not crush his bones. "They should have the might and constitution to break their enemies with a thought rather than to capitulate to outside endeavors. They are weak because they do not know what it takes to win. To rule all, and never die."

"I have told you before…A true ruler is as moral as a hurricane. Empty, but for the force of his gale."

Her smile was not entirely unkind, but there was a touch of mocking pride that let her fall beside him once more. Such insects poised the well.

Weaklings.