Seren Gwyn
White Star
Malachor was not the sort of world most people offered as an invitation. Seren was well aware of that.
The planet had earned its reputation long before she had ever set foot upon it, and nothing about the blackened landscape surrounding her home did much to soften the impression. Ancient stone disappeared beneath stretches of dark earth, broken formations rose against a perpetually unforgiving sky, and the weight of history remained embedded so deeply within the world that the Force itself sometimes seemed reluctant to forget. There were places on Malachor where the past whispered loudly enough to become dangerous. Seren had learned which paths to avoid, which ruins were better left undisturbed, and which shadows were merely shadows. Somewhere along the way, the place others regarded as a graveyard had simply become home.
It had been some time since Alvaria when the message from Darth Malum had reached her through the means of contact she had provided him after the gathering. Their first meeting had hardly afforded either of them much opportunity to actually speak. There had been too many others answering his summons, too many histories converging upon one wounded world, and Seren had been content to remain near the edges and listen. Apparently Malum had been interested enough in their brief acquaintance to ask for another meeting. She had considered neutral ground for all of several minutes before deciding there was little point. If he wanted to meet Seren Gwyn rather than simply the woman who had once introduced herself as Darth Eryndis, he might as well come somewhere that belonged to her.
So she had sent him coordinates.
Her home stood tucked into the mountainside, incorporated into a natural cave system that had been expanded and made comfortable over time without entirely erasing what had originally been there. Warm light spilled from recessed fixtures across stone walls, softening an interior that might otherwise have seemed austere. Shelves held books, datapads, fragments of old research, and the occasional artifact that Seren had determined was safe enough to keep nearby. There were comfortable furnishings rather than the severe trappings of some Sith sanctum, and farther within the cave system lay the garden she had painstakingly nurtured beneath carefully arranged lighting. At its heart rested the Floralite, alive and growing despite the scars that remained along its crystalline petals.
Seren had made no elaborate preparations for her guest. The sitting room had been straightened, a pot of tea waited alongside a second option considerably stronger than tea, and she had moved a few pieces of research from the table so they would actually have somewhere to sit. That seemed sufficient. Malum had asked to meet her, not inspect a royal court, and she had absolutely no intention of pretending her home was anything other than what it was simply because the King of Alvaria was coming to visit.
She had dressed with much the same philosophy. Black trousers disappeared into comfortable boots, accompanied by a dark blue-gray tunic with long sleeves pushed casually to her forearms. Her dark blue-black hair had been left loose, and Voidstar rested nearby rather than at her hip. She knew precisely who was coming. Leaving the weapon within reach was sensible. Wearing it around her own home as though she expected Malum to attack her would have made the invitation rather meaningless.
The notification from the perimeter eventually interrupted the quiet.
Seren glanced toward the small display and saw that a vessel had entered the coordinates she had provided. A faint smile touched her lips. Malum had apparently decided that accepting an invitation to Malachor was a perfectly reasonable way to spend part of his day.
"Well then."
She left the warmth of the sitting room behind and made her way through the passages toward the exterior entrance. The temperature dropped gradually as she approached it, the comfortable warmth of her home surrendering to Malachor's colder air. Seren stepped outside and folded her arms loosely against herself, amber eyes turning toward the distant approach.
Their first meeting had taken place upon the ruins of someone else's history, surrounded by Sith answering a summons and wondering what Darth Malum's return meant for them. This time there would be no audience, no declarations, and no need for either of them to become anything more than two people who had decided they were curious enough to speak again.
Seren found that she preferred it already.
She waited near the entrance to her home, allowing him the courtesy of making his own arrival rather than walking out to meet a ship that had not yet settled. When he eventually reached her, he would find none of the old ceremony awaiting him. No Darth Eryndis. No formal reception for the Lord of House Marr.
Just Seren. And, once he was close enough to hear her, the smallest hint of amusement entered her expression.
"Welcome to Malachor."
Darth Malum of House Marr
The planet had earned its reputation long before she had ever set foot upon it, and nothing about the blackened landscape surrounding her home did much to soften the impression. Ancient stone disappeared beneath stretches of dark earth, broken formations rose against a perpetually unforgiving sky, and the weight of history remained embedded so deeply within the world that the Force itself sometimes seemed reluctant to forget. There were places on Malachor where the past whispered loudly enough to become dangerous. Seren had learned which paths to avoid, which ruins were better left undisturbed, and which shadows were merely shadows. Somewhere along the way, the place others regarded as a graveyard had simply become home.
It had been some time since Alvaria when the message from Darth Malum had reached her through the means of contact she had provided him after the gathering. Their first meeting had hardly afforded either of them much opportunity to actually speak. There had been too many others answering his summons, too many histories converging upon one wounded world, and Seren had been content to remain near the edges and listen. Apparently Malum had been interested enough in their brief acquaintance to ask for another meeting. She had considered neutral ground for all of several minutes before deciding there was little point. If he wanted to meet Seren Gwyn rather than simply the woman who had once introduced herself as Darth Eryndis, he might as well come somewhere that belonged to her.
So she had sent him coordinates.
Her home stood tucked into the mountainside, incorporated into a natural cave system that had been expanded and made comfortable over time without entirely erasing what had originally been there. Warm light spilled from recessed fixtures across stone walls, softening an interior that might otherwise have seemed austere. Shelves held books, datapads, fragments of old research, and the occasional artifact that Seren had determined was safe enough to keep nearby. There were comfortable furnishings rather than the severe trappings of some Sith sanctum, and farther within the cave system lay the garden she had painstakingly nurtured beneath carefully arranged lighting. At its heart rested the Floralite, alive and growing despite the scars that remained along its crystalline petals.
Seren had made no elaborate preparations for her guest. The sitting room had been straightened, a pot of tea waited alongside a second option considerably stronger than tea, and she had moved a few pieces of research from the table so they would actually have somewhere to sit. That seemed sufficient. Malum had asked to meet her, not inspect a royal court, and she had absolutely no intention of pretending her home was anything other than what it was simply because the King of Alvaria was coming to visit.
She had dressed with much the same philosophy. Black trousers disappeared into comfortable boots, accompanied by a dark blue-gray tunic with long sleeves pushed casually to her forearms. Her dark blue-black hair had been left loose, and Voidstar rested nearby rather than at her hip. She knew precisely who was coming. Leaving the weapon within reach was sensible. Wearing it around her own home as though she expected Malum to attack her would have made the invitation rather meaningless.
The notification from the perimeter eventually interrupted the quiet.
Seren glanced toward the small display and saw that a vessel had entered the coordinates she had provided. A faint smile touched her lips. Malum had apparently decided that accepting an invitation to Malachor was a perfectly reasonable way to spend part of his day.
"Well then."
She left the warmth of the sitting room behind and made her way through the passages toward the exterior entrance. The temperature dropped gradually as she approached it, the comfortable warmth of her home surrendering to Malachor's colder air. Seren stepped outside and folded her arms loosely against herself, amber eyes turning toward the distant approach.
Their first meeting had taken place upon the ruins of someone else's history, surrounded by Sith answering a summons and wondering what Darth Malum's return meant for them. This time there would be no audience, no declarations, and no need for either of them to become anything more than two people who had decided they were curious enough to speak again.
Seren found that she preferred it already.
She waited near the entrance to her home, allowing him the courtesy of making his own arrival rather than walking out to meet a ship that had not yet settled. When he eventually reached her, he would find none of the old ceremony awaiting him. No Darth Eryndis. No formal reception for the Lord of House Marr.
Just Seren. And, once he was close enough to hear her, the smallest hint of amusement entered her expression.
"Welcome to Malachor."
Darth Malum of House Marr