grief is the great giver
Brosi.
Efret had heard about the relatively recent invasion and of Aerik's part in repelling it. It had compelled her to seek him out on Dromund Kaas, not in awe of his bravery but hoping for some information about the Netherworld. Since then, she had met Casimir and had forayed into a Nethergate with him.
It was strange. After the Second Cataclysm had swallowed Elias out of Theed, she had helped the then-Shirayan Knights find him, but hadn't joined them on their rescue attempt—as scared to navigate the awful realm with Nirrah to guide her as she was. But now, even after spending just a couple of months back in the Core, she had traversed the void not once but twice, and was prepared to continue to do so.
But coming back to the Thandon Cluster wasn't related to that business. Her attention had shifted to the matter of disguise. She was officially part of the Sith Covenant now. As much as she might try to keep to herself, she was bound to encounter Jedi sooner rather than latter. That was the nature of things. Jedi tended to sniff out Sith wherever they were, no matter how asocial or uninterested in combat as they might be. There was no hiding; there was no tolerable Sith to the Jedi. They all deserved to die. Protecting oneself, then, was a necessity.
For Efret, the first step of that was creating an alias. She was a well-known figure to most Jedi, even if not personally. Though the New Jedi Order had fallen years ago, and she had left it even before, her former reputation as one of its Councilwomen preceded her almost anywhere she went.
Was this to be one of those places?
She hoped against hope that it wasn't. Recognition was the bane of her newly developed exsistance.
During their conversation in Fondor's steam tunnels, Lysander had suggested that Efret visit one
Madrona A’Mia
, a Sith Sorceress who could aid her in her necessary transition. Brush cracked, shifting underfoot as Efret moved through the great forest reminiscent of the Kashyyykian Shadowlands in search of the legendary Neti. She had an idea already of the path before her, of the steps she'd take to reach anonymity: take a Sith moniker, get a new set of gear, and change her communication style.Her interpretation system—consisting of her henna-styled electro-tattoos and vocoder—were as unique to her as her face. She wasn't the only Deaf Force user in the galaxy, no, but she was the only one with the particular voice programmed into her unit. It had been custom-made for her; this specific kind of assistive technology was rare in and of itself.
Therefore, it simply had to be changed. Though her borrowed voice might not be recognizable to every Light sider she would meet, her close friends and former colleagues were sure to remember the monotonous speech, and her otherwise carefully curated veneer would dissolve.
Efret Farr's reinvention would have to be all-consuming.