Private Necrotic Salts

[Pom Stych Tivé]

Thirteen women dressed in black stood amidst the shadows of the sacred Temple.

"We each have our own gifts. It is just how we work," she admitted sadly.
"Among us, you have the gift, and they each have another component. We alone cannot have everything, the Oracle has decreed it thusly."
"But soon, we shall have the Potion."
"They have the right blood. You have the spirit."
"The Emperor's spirit!"
"The child?!"
"Not his CHILD! His Dark Transfer."
"Yes! Each brings their own gifts! His spirit intertwined with your's!"

A subtle smile cast across Pom's visage reminiscent of the past few months of her life. A wild ride. His stature. She swooned and her body swayed and multiple members of the Wanica quickly reached out to catch her lest she fall.

"Bring fortification for the Matriarch."
"Yes, weaving the Emperor's mighty offspring cannot be an easy task for such a little woman."
"She still looks good."
"Oh yes, glowing with much pride!"

They led Pom to a chair to sit while a strong tincture was mixed. She cleared her mind before she ended up calling her powerful mate directly to her. Wouldn't that be…splendid terrible?

"Might I suggest, add a little blackroot knot to your concoction," the witch called out before turning back towards Pom. "Any one of us wishes we could take your place. We will be right here with you, Mother."

Pom nodded. It is true the astrological alignment beneficial for the success of this particular potion is one that only occurs every one hundred-sixteen and seven-eighth years.

The concoction was brought to the Matriarch and downed. She felt its immediate benefit. "Thank you girls." Inherently she did worry for her unborn, but over and over the oracle only showed her success today and a strong healthy daughter. Had she not uncovered the ancient artifact, she never would have plunged into such a risky potion. But her daughter too would merit from the outcome of such toil and sacrifice, for she would wield its fruition in her private arsenal.

"You mind my miracle for me, first and foremost."

"They approach!"



While two members of Pomstychtivé's coven from across the galaxy amidst Confederate Space were brought into the sacred brewing room of the Epimoní Temple, made ready for the ritual, the Matriarch welcomed them from where she sat, as the twelve remaining Wanica Coven members stood behind her. A few tended the fire under a large iron cauldron, where nearby a rack stood prepped with ingredients which would be enchanted and prepared appropriately, just at the right time.

Her voice was as soft spoken as the appearance of her milky skin. "I am very pleased you have accepted the ethereal call to join me on this rare celestial alignment, Telula Vale , Dispara ." She gazed at them to learn which one went by which name before continuing.

"You have been identified by the oracle as two of three who together are necessary to band together to create a very volatile potion." Pom lifted her hand to gesture toward a decorated stone altar far across the room, where a crystal ball of solid red gemstone glowed in altering intensities. "I am the third participant required. We are pleased to have found you. Many never locate suitable pairings for such formidable projects," she said.

"Let me speak on the project itself, Necrotic Salts, a once in a lifetime attempt to brew; a once in a lifetime attempt to use as well. Brew her wrong or either use her wrong, and you die. Once begun, there is no turning back. The potion must be completed, or the chemical properties which remain unfulfilled will be so volatile that left unfinished for any inappropriate amount of time, would mean the imminent destruction to ourselves and this immediate portion of my homeworld. But you already expect this outcome I am sure, as it is imperative of many potions you have worked on in your advanced classes before. Vytal has spoken highly of you as well." While her warning is grave, her tone also carries trust in her fellow Nightsisters, and excitement in the adventure at hand. "I offer you to partake in this historic challenge. While there will be risk, my daughters shall be vigilant to assure our endurance and survival. They are our time keepers, our critical weighers, our bleeders." Yes, that is blood as a requirement for this potion, which you should have been foretold regarding, prior your acceptance. "The fortification tinctures we have on hand at the ready are many and they are counted well beyond our requirements today." A case of thin corked bottles were packed in the middle of the room on a stand, their contents glowed. Near them additional bottles, in case additional measures would be necessary. "Have no fear. There shall be no taking advantage. Vytal is my actual sister. I have walked among your halls on Ryloth, and my hand is in the very magick with keeps your walls upright and functioning there. Although you and I have never met before, I am of the old world doctrine. Once kindred always kindred, and the sisterhood comes before all other bonds. I would dare not disrespect any sister of my own, as you too are my own."

The Matriarch extended her hands in unison to each of the two newcomers in welcome in order to draw inward a feel for their spirits, and share a sense of her own of power, knowhow and honesty with them.

 

[Dispara]

​

What fortune of Fate had been afforded her. An outsider to be welcomed into the Solanaceae was fortune enough, for her magick flourished under the tutelage of the Nightsisters. She had progressed as far as the Jarvashquiine cult on Antamont could take her. Those rudimentary shamans had slain her parents and taken the ten year old Sarai Tommlan for blood sacrifice. But the child possessed unrefined magic, and on the altar she rose up and slew their Patriarch with the very knife he wielded to kill her. From then on, she was one of them. But the child, renamed Dispara, could not find satiation for her thirst. So into the galaxy she flung herself to find more knowledge, more power.

Her very bones quaked when the cryptic invitation was offered. The Matriarch of the Wanica herself had summoned her. Oh what delicious, dark and terrible things were whispered about the Mistress Pom Stych Tivé among the initiates at the Academy. How was she worthy of such honor? The missive was suitably vague, yet detailed enough to suggest a once in a lifetime experience, one with a cost she was willing to pay for the infamy and power she could garner from such a grand opportunity.

What was almost as curious was her companion for the monumental effort. Telula Vale . Younger than Dispara by at least a half-dozen years, the petite fellow initiate was as shy as a rye rabbit. Cute but unassuming. But Dispara knew well enough that such a nondescript demeanor could harbor hidden power. As it turned out, Dispara knew that Lula was gifted at creating potions, having even helped Dispara in her studies of Alchemy. It seemed her talent for brewing received the attention of some powerful people.

Dispara ferried the both of them in her shuttle, far from Confederate territory deep into Imperial Sith space to their destination. She wore simple dark robes, her weapons left behind except for the primitive knife. As a measure of formal respect, she wore the mask used in her former Jarvashquiine rituals. With considerable secrecy they were escorted to the Temple. Dispara marveled at its construct, for it was founded and framed by the bones of countless beings. The young witch basked in the Dark that permeated the structure, craving but not daring to reach out to stroke a column of bound femurs, or the polished row of skulls that lined a banister.

Finally, they were left to enter the brewing chamber alone. Upon entering, Dispara and her sister found themselves staring at the dozen midnight-clad sisters of the Wanica, and seated before them, the Matriarch herself. Oh how beautiful and sinister she was, what flesh exposed was the palest ivory, the cowl of her mane raven black. Pom appeared imposing, frightening and magnificent.

Dispara listened in silence as the Matriarch spoke, revealing the gravity of their endeavor, the glory of success and the tragedy should they fail. Pale blue eyes left Pom only to look to the collection of glowing bottles, and a few darting glances at Lula. When those alabaster hands were extended, Dispara removed her mask and reached for the one closest to her. For all the mystery surrounding the woman, for all the darkness that clung to her, Dispara believed what Pom and expressed, and in taking her hand, offered herself to the cause.

 

[Telula Vale]

Attire: [X]
Tags: | Pom Stych Tivé | Dispara |

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This was beyond Telula's comfort zone; from the moment she had gotten the unearthly summons, to the moment she had boarded the shuttle with Dispara, it felt as if Lula was watching herself move from a distance. As if she were perhaps Warging herself, seeing the images and movements through the eyes, but controlling the body from afar. It was hollow, mechanical, and yet not so uncomfortable that she had refused the invitation. Clearly something was calling to her, more than this invitation had literally done. Whatever the case, the small blonde had agreed to go, had agreed to see what it was that was needed of her.

She did now however, go alone. Aside from the company of Dispara, Lula had brought along her Galek hound, Kai. If something were to go wrong, at least Kai was a means to protect herself - or others if the need arose.

Occasionally there had been conversation that flit to life from the alabaster skinned witchling. While she was not best friends, sleep over in my room sort of companions with the Sephi, Lula at least had spent enough time around the other woman to not clam up and shut down in silence through the journey from point A to point B. She was after all, a curious creature by nature, and so when something came up that she didn't understand throughout their trip, she would not hesitate to ask - albeit quietly of course.

Arrival however, was another mistress entirely. It had taken a great deal of effort on Telula's part to even leave the shuttle. Unfamiliar territory was bad enough, but with the feeling of the area around her coupled by people she did not know? Her hand hovered against the back of Kai's head as the pair eventually had followed behind in Dispara's wake.

They had entered the chamber, welcomed it seemed with open arms. More than once Lula's gaze danced around the room, taking in the sight of the set up, the loitering bodies, and the bottles of who knew what brew. Her curiosity kept her rooted, even when the explanation of why they were here, what they would be doing, and what could happen graced her ears. Some part of the blonde told her to retreat; to grab Kai and flee without so much as a backwards glance. This was beyond her skill level - in her mind at least. Lula was brilliant in Alchemy, but would never brag as such and was more than modest when it came to her skills.

And yet when a hand was offered, the witchling swallowed thickly and reached her free hand out so that she too could take the one closest to her. She knew what she was getting herself into on an explained basis, but Cosmos she had no idea what was truly in store for any of them.

 

[Pom Stych Tivé]

The two hadn't spoken a word in return and the Matriarch smiled softly. Soon trust would be built up between them all, she knew. Potions is a labor invasive task. The preparation far more grueling than the tedious toiling over the cauldron at times, at least in between moments of active involvement. The Wanica had the preparations ready. Over half a year ago they began their rituals and sacrificed endlessly, enchanting what needed attention. The witches who arrived today are the last and very necessary pieces of the puzzle. There had been many things that had to fall in place just so to get them all to this point. The coven had been watching these two final selections since the preparations had started. If they could not participate, then all would have been a wash! "Fate has smiled upon us today," said Pom Stych Tivé.

She felt slight trepidation coming off the girls, and she understood wholeheartedly. She remembered her own youthfulness, being called before the Clan Mother, never knowing beforehand what would be asked of her, but always it would be necessary to provide whatever was asked straight away, even if the request took days to fulfill; neither could she ever have known whether or not she would be met with chastisement for poor aptitude, unbeknownst to herself, but it could have happened of any witch under the Mother, as all were subpar when in her presence!

"Tea and cakes first, then work. Let's get to know one another; shall we?" she said, hoping it would help settle Telula Vale a bit. Nerves would do nobody any good, she knew from experience. But the twelve were around to help out with the details and assure nothing bad results, that no errors occur in the first place which cannot be immediately corrected. The Coven had everything all laid out, and had already begun to remove sheets off the ingredient storage shelves, when another under Pom's charge brought over two chairs for Telula and Dispara, just as a cart of tea and cake was wheeled into the room.

"So where do you both reside? In which castles among Confederate space?" she asked of each with exuberance, while accepting the cup of sugarless tea poured for her. "I had only lived on Ryloth before my return to Dathomir. Feel free to share anything you like." Drinks were poured and offered to the young women as well. "Also when did you start calling your selves what…after salad? What has become of the Mandragora?" She wondered if there had been a rebranding, and if so, what could possibly have been the reason behind it? The Matriarch truly has no idea what is happening in the intergalactic clans, and is honestly deeply saddened to be so out of touch with those who once meant so very much to her that they had been inseparable at one point in time, but she would never burden anyone by letting on. She leads a very busy life herself, regardless of what she feels she misses out on.

While Pom listened attentively to all the two would openly share, the fire in the hearth was roaring by now and the first of the tables by the cauldron had been set. The Wanica watched the sun glide across the sky, preparing to depict the perfect moment in which to begin the potion. Pom offered the familiar any resting place it or its owner felt appropriate before offering in return, "Is there anything you want to ask about me?"

 

[Dispara]

The raven-haired Elder had a presence that Dispara found palpable. Perhaps it was simply the setting, the otherworldly temple, the quiet gallery of Wanica witches watching them, or the reputation of the infamous Nightsister before her. Or... it was Pom's power, her magic, that the Sephi felt to her bones. Regardless, a thirst came upon her, to learn even a small, broken fraction of what the cryptic and mysterious witch possessed.

The moment was broken as more mundane activity resumed. Tea and cake. It was something unexpected, Dispara anticipating something more...ritualistic, what seemed a theme among her new Nightsisters. The initiate's icy blue gaze slipped to her younger companion, Telula Vale , then for a breath to the hound at Telula's side. What was special about She and Telula that brought them here? The uncertainty that clung to her loosened a bit at the prospect of an informal get-to-know with the Elder over tea.

Taking the seat offered, Dispara glanced up at the coven witch. Until then, they had been shadowy figures on the fringe of the room, quiet and enigmatic. Seeing them up close and movin, removed some of the mystery from them. She accepted the cup of tea poured by one of the witches, looking back to Pom as she posed her question. Dispara glanced again to Lula, who had been among the Solanaceae longer than she. Yet Dispara answered first.

"I am currently on Geonosis, at the Academy. I am fairly new." Dispara replied without hesitation. She wished she could provide more answers to their host regarding the recent changes to the Order, but the shaman was far too new to fully understand what had occurred. Her gaze again shifted to the petite, porcelain-skinned fellow initiate next to her, who might have been able to shed light on the matter. What was far more difficult to embrace was the offer to ask questions of Pom Stych Tivé herself. Such were the legends surrounding the mysterious Matriarch, whether true or exaggerated, that a million inquiries came to Dispara's mind. However she hesitated to ask any of them.

Finally, the initiate mustered the nerve to ask one question. not out of disrespect, but out of regret that the Matriarch was not associated more with the Solanaceae. If she were, Dispara could sit under her teaching.

"Mistress, with all respect, why don't you know these things, why are you not with us?"

 

[Pom Stych Tivé]

N I G H T S I S T E R S​

Tag: Telula Vale | Dispara​

“Sometimes one has to leave where they are most comfortable to sprout their roots, only to discover they have not done so solely for their own benefit, but that others may flower in their own space and be free to live by their own preference as well. Once you leave your love behind, you come to find that only one of you is ever needed here or there, and never two of you again hand in hand as it once had been.” Pom did not sacrifice her family to be in her current position. She sacrificed position for family. Even though the CIS are large in number, there was never any discussion about there being room enough for two Nightmothers. Darth Metus often voiced his personal interest in Pom's increased presence, but Pom can only assume by Vytal’s silence that she disagrees and has grown on her own so much since Pom had left the CIS, that Pom's involvement in the CIS is no longer an option. Pom holds onto hope that all the covens across the galaxy shall unite someday. She has been welcome where she is, and lives on Dromund Kaas now as much as Dathomir.​

Pom wanted them to understand, “Dathomir witches attacked the Sith about little over a year ago, and the Sith slaughtered those particular covens to the last of their immediate kindred. Their aggression threatened us, all the rest. Labeled us all dissent if we did not join them. But such is not our way, to take beliefs apart from our ancestry. We have no innate bloodlust they seem to have adopted, such as those among the Sith who we can only conclude have embraced insanity. While the Imperial soldiers waged war against the Empire who bred them into existence, the Emperor himself extended his hand to generously bless down upon our heads what we needed to evolve without suffering under such demands. We agreed to a pact with the Sith that the guilty had already been handled, and none remained among us who would wage war against the Sith like the Imperial soldier. I have been charged to keep the peace between us for all who wish to return home, and who come to learn here. Unlike the recent past, Dathomir is now mostly free of Sith governance, outside of the plot of land which the Sith Scientists and their security have established for their base, and remaining orbital defense. She is under binding agreement and safe. Any time any of you need me, or seek instruction, you call on Pomsty and I will teach or help you any way that I am able."​

It was in the past that Pom and Vytal both never believed either of them could have tolerated anything touched by the Ashla into their fold. Vytal was the first to venture down the avenue, while Pom held fast to rejection. Soon Pom was cast directly into the eye of the Ashla's focus, tormented day and night. She could never fully accept redemption. The Mistress' soul was torn in two by the Fanged God and the Winged Goddess who warred over her subjugation. This resulted in two polar entities, Pomstychtivé and Spasa, the Vengeful and Salvation. Spasa could not endure without likewise finalizing Pom's redemption, such as is the case of most religious zealots. Thus Pom could not live without accomplishing Spasa's demise. Eventually, with the Emperor's help, Spasa was snuffed out after Pom suffered years of her unceasing torment. It did not take but a few meetings with the Emperor before Pom sought to understand how he views life and power, and come to study the Darkside from the best source available, its most powerful wielder amidst the galaxy. In light of her experience since leaving the safe havens of the CIS, Pom chooses to overlook one's alignment as far as the Dathomiri Witches are concerned. All are kindred, for their Dathomiri customs are like nowhere else among the Galaxy. ​

After taking up permanently on Dathomir, Pom evolved into a force all her own, and it is because of the Sith's presence. She walked into the Bone Temple during the Witching Hour, while the Imperial Scientists on Dathomir were running experiments on the Warlock's Gate, a mysterious porthole to the Nether. There within the Bone Temple's ancient altar chamber, she faced the spirits of her ancestors, and she willingly accepted their offer to grant her knowledge of their honed unique and individual powers, if she would become a living host for them. The Wanica Coven who stood amongst the three today, are the embodiment of those spirits. It is in Pom whom they rest while they remain dormant.​

The Matriarch stared into the fireplace and allowed her mind rest amidst the undying fight of the flames. "A long time ago, Vytal and I had a dream which we spoke of often," she reminisced, stirring feelings of both hope for the future, and an intense sense of loss over what could have been a phenomenal force across the galaxy. "We would stretch our coven, our family across the galaxy, and we did. The most important lesson in it all? Nothing shall ever break the bond of the sisterhood…nothing.” In reality however, she felt the sting of division, rather than the unity she sought.​

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