Sinner's Well [ Srina ]

[Malok]

Master - Is something wrong?

After all that they had seen together, Darth Metus was not surprised to find concern in the tone of his apprentice. But, at least now, the initial rumble in her voice was not caused by ash caking her lungs; but rather a premature conclusion from a nap. Once again, the Sith did not immediately answer her question; though his gaze rested gently upon her alabaster features. As always, she was a stark contrast to the man seated beside her. As always, her dresses were a testament to the quiet beauty the Echani possessed. As always, he looked as though he could dive into a battlefield with but a thought. But that was the usual. That was the norm. Though they looked so different, they were mighty as One.

And, frankly, that was what he feared losing. He feared losing Home.

For him, the towering walls of Sinner’s Well were not his refuge. The young woman had been that for her Master for months now. She alone gave him rest when the Darkness bit against his mind. She alone gave him peace when his kin met untimely ends. She gave him a smile without lifting a finger. And when they were on the field of battle, Darth Metus truly felt invincible. There was no greater power than the fury of an Echani and the wrath of a Sith Lord. Drawing a breath, he spoke softly. ”Nothing is the matter.” he said simply. Though, she now knew what was on his mind.

He just wanted things to go back to the way they were. Not in the sense that they no longer had responsibilities. Not even in the sense that they spent every waking moment attached at the hip (although that was lovely all things considered.) If Darth Metus truly had to put to words what it was that he sought, it was...to know, concretely, that he wouldn’t lose what they had built. To know that their world wouldn’t burn apart like Coruscant.

Can we even do that? Realistically? The question she posed was as logical as they came. Having freshly returned from the fall of Coruscant, one would assume that the best course of action would be to shore up their own defenses. To probe everyone within even a slightest position of authority to ensure that the Confederacy did not meet a similar end. To flex their military might and readiness as much as possible. But. Realistically - as far as the mantle of Vicelord was concerned - they were no good to the Confederacy exhausted. The candle was burning at three ends at this point, and the fatigue shared between the two of them was astronomical. In order to serve, they required energy. Energy they did not have.

But...beyond the responsibilities...he truly did believe that things could go back to the way they were. He truly believed that, if they just took some time away, whatever…magick that had claimed their lives between Coruscant and Golbah Games would return. That their Bond would feel stronger than ever. That they would be One.

He parted his lips to respond. But...what his Apprentice said next widened his eyes ever so slightly. She was apologizing. Why? Why did she not see what he did? Did she not feel the Pride which coursed through their Bond whenever he spoke her name? Did she not know that her very presence pushed him to be better? Challenged him to lead better than any of his predecessors? And above all, did she not know how much better she was at close quarters melee than he?

”Srina.” he began. Reaching, the rear of his hand gingerly touched her cheek. ”You are my Pride. You are my confidant. There is none in my life like you. There is nothing, ever, that you have done to ever bring disappointment to me. You are more than enough as you are.”

He paused, offering her a smile. There was no need to ever doubt, especially when they were together. Whatever shortcomings she thought she had, they could decimate them together. Such was his duty as her Master - to uplift her to new heights. But never once had she ever failed him. Never once had she been anything other than perfect. In fact...if there was one who had failed, it was...Him.

Tatooine would never happen again.

”With that said my dear…” he breathed. ”We can do that, realistically. We are beat, and there is not enough Force Drain in the Galaxy to refresh us to working condition. Else, we are no good to anyone. Especially not our Confederacy. We need this time so that we can guide them better. Besides, that’s what we have Ministers for, is it not?” Srina operated on logic, not emotion - so he had to address her concerns one at a time. He had to also address her rebuttals before they started. So, he added: ”And before we go, we can certainly begin the process of making sure what happened to Coruscant does not happen to us. The Knights will be charged with thorough investigations - and by the time they are even partially done, we will be back.”

He patted her lap gently. ”And...things can go back to the way they were. We just need a moment to breathe. Trust me.”

[member="Srina Talon"]

 

[Srina Talon]

Srina didn’t want to be awake. She didn’t want to remember what she’d seen on Coruscant. She didn’t want to remember the faces of the survivors as they discovered the demise of their family and friends. The slender Echani was connected to [member="Darth Metus"] in a similar fashion to which she was bound to Aryn Teth. She could feel his guilt. His pain. His sadness. It felt like it was splitting her in two. The warrior in her wanted to fight this end. Srina hated this. She needed an enemy that she could see. That she could engage and beat bloody until they confessed their sins. She needed someone that she could blame and burn on a pyre for all of the suffering that the Core endured…

This Sith Empire didn’t operate that way. They hid in the shadows. They built monsters beneath the streets and skylanes of Coruscant and ripped the planet asunder when they rose from the depths. They left festering wounds, full of Sithspawn, which poured over every living thing like a wave of sulfuric acid.

They had done all of this without seeming to bat an eye. They’d barely lifted a finger.

Srina was tense. Hearing that nothing was wrong mollified her slightly but it still didn’t take the shadowed wings of anxiety from her heart. If the Sith Empire could do something so heinous to the Alliance—what could they do here? What could they do to her home if they so chose? The wars between the Echani and the Thyrsians had lasted centuries. She thought she knew battle. She thought she knew war…It was difficult to come to grips with the fact that she knew nothing.

She felt like an ignorant, petulant child, with no real concept of what was at stake.

Feeling her stomach bottom out from fears unspoken she reached out of the Sith Lord with both arms. It was clear what she wanted, to try and ease them both, even while he considered her question of if they could actually disappear for a little while. Slender arms slid around his waist and she leaned into him. Darth Metus was warm. Safe. As terrifying as Coruscant had been his presence had allowed her to remain steadfast. It allowed her to keep moving. To fight, and for the most part, win.

His fingers on her cheek caused her eyes to close. He always sang her praises to the heavens. Why didn’t she feel it? Why did she feel inferior? “I am not the Sith you need me to be.”, she trailed off softly, her voice muffled, from the way she spoke into his shirt. Little legs tucked up beside her almost made her seem smaller than she already was. “You name me your Exarch…But I am afraid I’m not strong enough.”

“I can’t devote myself to a school of thought that means I will betray you.”

He went on to explain that they could certainly take some time away. Srina remained skeptical still. She liked to see things done with her own eyes. To know that all sectors were being surveilled and monitored appropriately. She couldn’t imagine the terror, the hopelessness, that would rip through a heavily populated planet like Geonosis if they were subject to the same treatment.

Every nation had spies. How did something like this fall under the radar for so long? How did Taeli Raaf hide her deception so well? Srina had eaten across the table from her. They’d held small talk. And yet, in the end, she had been just as fooled as everyone else. How did they compensate for that?

“I can agree to step away with the Ministers at the helm if, and only if, we outline our expectations thoroughly first. I can’t walk away with so much uncertainty. If I do it won’t be much of a vacation.”

[member="Darth Metus"]

 

[Malok]

One of the things which made their relationship so solid was their mutual upbringing. As children of Eshan and Mandalore respectively, Srina and her Master had a unique appreciation for warfare. They did not flinch from battles, regardless of who the adversary was. Nor did they falter in the maintenance of their skills. That was one of the things that the pair would always have time for: sparring for just awhile each morning before being tugged away to their respective duties. However, the pitfall that Echani and Mandalorian culture faced was that their wars were very direct. Their cultures were brutal, but efficient, in the way they exterminated an adversary. At times, it was death by melee. At others, it was decimation by orbital bombardment.

Coruscant, therefore, rattled what they had become accustomed to. When Darth Metus looked upon the ash-ridden planet, what little Mandalorian left in him turned up its nose in disgust. But. As the name he now carried implied, he lived a life with a different way of thinking. To be a Sith meant to make one’s ambitions a reality by any means necessary. There were numerous interpretations of what being a Sith meant - but all had that much in common. In the case of Coruscant, the ambitions of the Sith Empire were made manifest through hidden brutality. A literal armada was amassed right underneath the feet of trillions; and not a soul knew. This type of warfare was not straightforward. This type of brutality was not efficient. It glorified terror and senseless bloodshed.

It challenged everything that his Apprentice knew and believed...and left her shaken to the Core. When she reached out for him, his arms eagerly ensnared her form in an embrace. Her touch, always, brought peace to the storm of his life; and in turn he hoped that he could bring her comfort. Her words...balked against the reality of being a Sith. What the Sith Empire had done made her want to have nothing to do with that mindset. Above all, she never wanted to raise a hand against her master. ”You are exactly what I need you to be.” His voice was soft - like a blanket against the chill of her doubts. ”There are countless meaning to the word Sith..” he began, raising his hand once more - this time gingerly stroking her hair. ”But the path taught to me by my Master - the path that I require you to follow - does not ask for you to betray me. I does not demand that you revel in the slaughter of millions. I would never ask you to become a butcher like the Sith Empire.”

He paused, offering a smile. ”You are enough. You are more than enough. Strong enough as well. You have much to learn - and that is what I am here for. What I need you to devote yourself to is simple. Devote yourself to Me. Believe in what I have to teach you. The Sith that I am and the Sith that burned Coruscant are different rungs of the spectrum my dear.”

With his assurances out in the air of the Parlour, the Sith simply enjoyed her embrace for a moment. He nodded along with her requirements for a vacation, affirming with a simple:

”But of course. We never half-ass anything.”

[member="Srina Talon"]

 

[Srina Talon]

Srina couldn’t remove the taste of ash from her mouth. From her lungs. It gave food and drink the flavor of dry chalk. When coughed she half expected to see a handful of black mucus. It was disgusting, revolting, because not only did that ash belong to the structures of Coruscant but it belonged to the bodies that burned. She had inhaled people in her haste to help evacuate anyone and everyone they could. It made her want to begin scanning their own worlds. Search for bunkers and weapons of destruction that didn’t belong to them.

She kept imagining Geonosis with massive gaping wounds like Coruscant. With ships pouring from the ground, destroying everything, without any sort of conscience to speak of. It was madness.

The moonlit haired woman, swathed in a soft, mint green gown fell into the embrace of her Master. Srina had spent so long being fearless, even after Tatooine, that she’d forgotten what it was to be afraid. She was angry over what had happened to her family on Eshan. Not afraid. She was full of wrath, pure and unbridled, not filled with terror. These things were very different. This war was very different. Thyrsians were animals but even THIS was beyond them. It was beyond the burning of Mandalore.

It was beyond anything she had ever seen. It wasn’t war. It wasn’t a battle. It was slaughter.

She buried her face against him and tried not to let salt sting her eyes. The Sith Apprentice of [member="Darth Metus"] did not cry. She would not break under the destruction that the Sith Empire had delivered so swiftly to the Core. Her slim shoulders tightened, and she tensed, in an effort to control her emotions. As an Echani it was her duty to think. Not feel. THINK. Emotion had no purpose, no place, and no bearing in any wargame.

She needed to be as precise as a droid-surgeon with a scalpel and twice as steady.

Beyond the confusion and anguish that roiled inside her, she could hear the voice of the dread-locked man murmuring words of wisdom and comfort. He warmed her as he always did. He reminded her that when they were together, she was safe, and they were powerful. Unstoppable. She could feel his hand in her hair, smoothing the waving ivory locks, and she seemed to settle. Touch always soothed her over anything else. She could read it, sense the intent, and accept it. This was the Echani way.

“You can’t promise me that you would never require it. I have always followed your every word. Your every lesson…But you can’t promise what blood I will or won’t need to spill.”, Srina murmured softly, her saccharine tones muffled, nearly unintelligible from the material of his tunic, and the tears that she hid. She didn’t want him to see her weakness. It was bad enough that he could feel it. “We are Sith…I am Sith…I just can’t understand why I’m different. Wrong. Different from Mirvak. Er’in. Akabane…All of them. Even Adron.”

It felt as if the floor was made of patched together pieces of tile that were slowly falling out from beneath them. The air felt thin, but more than anything, it felt cold. It had been quite some time since her abilities activated without her prompting. Ice was something she had only summoned once. Many, many moons ago on the Ferocity. It was a gift that her mother specialized in. “I always thought I was past emotion. I always thought it couldn’t touch me. It is here. Through you…Through these bonds, I feel all of it as you do and I think I’m drowning in it. Guren bêd enn…I am drowning.” [My heart tells me…]

A crisp frost swept through the area around them. It touched the lounge first, hardening the edges if her dress, adding small icicles to the ends of her hair. It would have been beautiful were it not for the fact that it seemed to get colder with her every breath. She didn’t want to feel this way, to feel responsible, and guilty for the dead in the Core. To look upon the faces of those that survived was torture beyond anything she could ever devise. To see so many who wished they’d died too, or, to see those who deluded themselves with false hope that their children had escaped…

“For all of our power we have nothing. I do not have enough. So…We do not have enough. I need more.”

[member="Darth Metus"]

 

[Malok]

The words “I feel” would never escape her lips.

The alabaster woman which nestled into the Sith’s touch was not a creature of emotion. She was unlike the overwhelming majority of her gender in the Galaxy - for logic dictated the majority of her actions. It was simply a by-product of the environment which had cultivated her. She was Echani: a warrior of the highest caliber that looked upon the world realistically. And therefore, when, despite her best efforts the cataclysm occurred, the reality it showed her was terrifying. It made her feel as though she truly was a mortal - and not the Apprentice of an Immortal. It made her feel as if all her training and growth was for naught; when it fact she bested a Sith Lord upon the sands of Tatooine.

Though she would never admit it, the Bond racing hot between their souls sang the ugly truth. She was afraid, though her tongue would never slither such a truth out of her lips. Every logical thought said that she did not have what it took to prevent such a fate from befalling her home. And Darth Metus did not have to wonder if she dreamed about it. There was no doubt in his mind that her dreams already told a vicious story of Sinner’s Well being on fire. Of gaping maws breaking apart the surface of Ryloth to destroy what little happiness she had claimed for herself. Of death claiming her Aryn, her Master, her bunnies, her everything. And yet, as the subtle tremors ran throughout her body, Darth Metus would be her pillar of strength.

And as the doubt was made manifest by the gentle chime of her voice, he would be her voice of reason. As she spoke, the warmth of his embrace did not waver. He held her close, as he did so often, and continued to gingerly stroke her ivory locks. But there was a cold which challenged his embrace. The very same cold which had been made manifest during the infancy of their Bond. So long ago aboard the Ferocity a wicked tundra had seized their quarters. For a moment, the Sith’s lips twitched at the fond memory.

”I can promise you that I will never require you to harm me. I can promise you that you will never need to spill my blood.” And in that moment...the question they both could not answer was laid bare. Why? Why was Srina Talon so different than all the other Apprentices which had knelt before the Sith Lord? Why did Darth Metus hesitate to corrupt the Echani when he gladly had so many others? Was it because they were bound? No - it could not have been. They had been subject to those damnable lizards before...and yet Darth Metus felt no different. What characterized their lives in that bond was not a control of the mind...so why?

The answer was simple - Love. It was not the romantic sort which was flaunted on the cheesy holovids. Nor was it the sort which saw dynasties born from a single pair. But what the Sith realized about the woman nestled in his arms was that love kept the blight at bay. It was so simple, and yet so mighty at the same time. What else could inspire him to weather the tundra which now agonizingly washed over his body? What else could give him the strength to continue attempting to comfort his precious Apprentice which his fingertips began to cake with literal ice? It was Love - plain and simple.

And at that realization, the Sith spoke with as much logic as he could muster. ”You know as well as I, emotion is an integral part of what makes us Human.” he began, carefully selecting each and every word. ”And what has shaped you is no fault of your own. The hands which cultivated your mind sought to remove emotion from you - to remove feeling from you - that is why being exposed to it now feels like an ocean. But you know what the old Code states: peace is a lie, there is only Passion.”

He paused, flexing his fingers for but a moment before continuing. ”But the old Code is the extremist side of life, dear Srina. And the Echani, hell, even the Jedi side of left is extremist in the opposing view. They seek to repress your feeling. Understand this, so that you can start to understand what makes you different.” For a moment, his lips brushed against her ivory locks. ”It is love, Srina. Plain and simple. I cannot harm you because I love you - and to harm one I love is to harm myself. You cannot bear to do the same for the same reason. It is not our Bond which shackles us this way, it is the blessing of knowing one another wholly that has.”

”You say that we have no power and that you have nothing? I disagree. We have one another. We witnessed our dear ally fall, yes. We could not save them all, yes. But what we did more than anything was learn. If we did not live through this Hell, we would not know to be more vigilant than ever before Srina. Is that not our strength? Is that not what sets us apart - that we can do anything when we stand together? Knowing what we know...and seeing what we have seen...it will order our steps moving forward.”

”But you are different, Srina. You are loved. That is what makes you mightier than our most vicious foe. Understand this and be vigilant with me. We will not allow this fate to befall us. We will not watch our homes burn because we can prevent it ever from happening.”

[member="Srina Talon"]

 

[Srina Talon]

Close.

The pale woman remained near to her Master. It was second nature to seek him out when emotion ran through her, so rampantly, that it felt like it might spiral out of her grasp. Her expression would never give anything away but his mere presence settled her. It soothed her. It gave her the strength to hold strong. She could feel his fingers in her hair and softly, slowly, she settled against the dark-skinned man. He could be so cold, so brutal, when it came to the face of war.

With her? He was different. He reminded her of many things. Warm, welcoming. The Sith Lord would find that the chill in the air slowly receded. He did not know her family, not all of them, but Srina had been framed in almost the spitting image of her mother. Aeris Talon was a force to behold. Her specialty? Cryokinesis. It was a skill that Srina had never had the time to cultivate. In that regard the chill and frost tended to leak from her person like newly made ice crawling up a window pane.

She couldn’t control it. Truthfully, it made her feel worse. More weakness.

“Promises are made to be broken.”

Her words fell short when she felt a swell of security. A connection, a warmth, that she didn’t quite understand. No matter her feelings for Aryn Teth she still did not always know how to recognize softer emotions. Her heart was like a barren field. No matter the seeds, the tending, or the soil—It would seem that nothing would ever grow. Except that it did. It swelled and grew until she wanted to believe Darth Metus. She wanted to believe him, that he would never, ever ask her to take his life…

Realizing that the frost born of her fear and sorrow was freezing her Master she did her best to swallow it. To chase it away. “Forgive me.”, the simplest words were spoken, apologetic, though she reached up to take his hands in her own. They were still warm, strangely, though everything else around them froze. Silver eyes raised to burnished orange when Metus began to speak again and the quiet creature listened.

Really, listened.

It did feel like an ocean. The sense of apprehension meshing with ineptitude. Her training had been stringent, though, it was more than that. She was in the image of her mother. Body, mind, and heart. Aeris Talon acted in the same mannerisms that Srina did. If possible her temperament was even colder. It was part of her training, certainly, but also something she had learned at home. He repeated part of the old code and her gaze fell away.

Passion.

She had no use for it. She couldn’t allow it. She needed her sharpness, her focus, so that Tatooine would not repeat itself. Srina would not be run through again. She would not be saved by others around her when she was the warrior. She was the tigress, whom, could handle anything. The snow-kissed woman could feel her Masters lips brush against her hair and she curled closer as his explanation continued.

The mighty Vicelord of the Confederacy then declared where their strength truly lay. In love. The very thought of ludicrous and her lips parted to say as such, however, they died in her throat. The wording left her feeling odd. Strange. She did not feel shackled. Never had it ever felt as if she’d been chained to the man that had protected her when she needed it most. Housed her. Kept her safe. “We are not shackled. You are not a restraint…”

It was a mere whisper that would be drowned out by his following statements. The slender Echani leaned back into the Vicelord and wrapped her arms better around his midsection. They couldn’t stay here all day. Forever. Where it was safe, in a blissful, and quiet moment of time. It was the calm before the storm. He claimed that she was loved. Was she? Were they? It was hard to discern as the words began to blur but one phrase stayed true.

“We will not allow this fate to befall us. We will not watch our homes burn because we can prevent it ever from happening.”

She held to Darth Metus, carefully, but firmly. It was safe. Her emotions did not overwhelm her so easily when he held her near. Even his scent was a comfort. The feeling of his Force Signature wrapping around her was soothing. Slowly, the exhausted woman began to calm. Her breathing evened and the small trembles slowly stopped. She didn’t say anything for a long moment. When she did speak, it was short, simple, and poignant.

“You’re right.”

 

[Malok]

Location: Sinner's Well, Ryloth​

Tag: [member="Srina Talon"]​

Days before the Invasion of Eshan…

Darth Metus wished, more than anything, that his words months prior held true. He spoke them to his beloved apprentice with genuine conviction, believing that - together - they would be able to prevent history from repeating itself. In a sense, he was...right. The Confederacy, that home that Master and Apprentice had built together, was in no danger of burning. There was no danger of ash caking the lungs of his beloved Srina, nor would she have cause to fear literal armadas breaching the ground beneath her feet. Yet, shortly after their return from Monastery, fresh Hell had unleashed itself upon the Home she had left behind. Srina was proud of Eshan, and if the circumstances of her life were different, she would never have left to begin with.

She was robbed of the freedom to choose her fate - instead being shackled to a monster and given the option of death or exile. It was by the latter that their relationship was made manifest, but the alabaster woman never forgot her home. It was never a source of weakness for her; unlike her Master's homeworld. It did not hinder her decisions. It did not hamper her advancement. In some cases, Darth Metus earnestly believed that Eshan was a source of motivation for the young woman. That, though she seldom spoke of what her plans were, she was the same woman who studied the stars projected in the garden - fixated on that one glimmering star. Srina trained, harshly, for the chance to rid herself of the demon of her past.

And now, her Master's people came crashing into her world.

To say that the Sith Lord blamed himself was an understatement. The understatement of the century. When he heard her cries and felt her anguish, the guilt ripped a hole in his chest. He could have done something about this so long ago. On Dathomir, he could have challenged Ra Vizsla prior to his unification of the Clans. He could have put to the sword the ideals that would spiral out of control and create the Mandalorian Empire. Hell, even during the civil war, he could have fought. He could have given it his all - and even died if need be - in putting down the budding monstrosity. And yet, for the sake of his people's "peace", he turned his back. He was content to walk away...to forget them. But in doing so, he forgot just how vicious the Mandalorian people could be.

They bombarded Eshan.

And in doing so, started a war.

Darth Metus had not seen his apprentice since their departure from Monastery. He and Exarch Malvern had made an immediate call to the Viceroyalty, demanding a session be held in order to make a formal declaration of war against the Mandalorian Empire. In truth, if either the Vicelord or the Exarch had their way, they would pool their collective resources and march on Eshan in that moment. But there had to be order. There had to be democracy, even when all Hell broke loose. The Sith was confident that he would be able to convince them to see the urgency of ridding Eshan of the Mandalorian menace. But there was one soul who opposed him. One who, despite the pain it caused her, quietly voiced her opposition as she watched her Master storm through the halls of their home.

Srina.

She wanted the very same as her Master - to see her people free of the oppression and anguish that had befallen them. But at what cost? Two halves of her world were on a collision course, and Darth Metus wagered that...she was worried about losing it all. What if he fell on Eshan, attempting to free her home. What if they failed? What if their presence only worsened the massacre? These were the whirlwind of silent questions which bubbled through their bond. Yet, the Sith made his preparations undeterred. Eventually, when the hour struck just past noon, the alabaster woman would be summoned to her Master's quarters. There, she would find him standing before that old, forgotten case which held a relic of the past. His beskar'gam. He reached out, as if to pluck the helm from its stand, when her footsteps would reach his ears.

"Srina.." he breathed, feeling where he mind was yet again. "You have always told me the same thing, have you not? Let the past die, and if I cannot, kill it." With helm in hand, he turned to face his beloved apprentice. Though the gates of hell rose to face them, he offered a warm smile. "This...is simply keeping that advice. I can't turn my back on this, not this time. And besides." he paused, flipping the helm over in his hands. "You'd do the same for me. Your struggle is our struggle."

He took a single step forward, offering his hand. "I need you to clear your mind Srina. We are going to take back your home. We are going to see your family through this - I promise."

And this time, he would move heaven and earth to keep this vow.