Location: The Desert Rose
Wearing: Tungsten + Argon
Tags:
CIS: [member="Scherezade deWinter"] | [member="Darth Metus"] | [member="Alden Akaran"] | [member="Luna Terrik"] | [member="Derek Dib"] | [member="Voph"] | [member="Alkor Centaris"] | [member="Madalena Antares"]
SJO: [member="Veiere Arenais"] | [member="Josh Dragonsflame"] | [member="Jessica Med-Beq"] | [member="John Locke"] | [member="Aida Aquila"] | [member="Gir Quee"] | [member="Gianna Aegis"]
ORC: [member="Peyton Steele"] | [member="Atlas Drake"]
First comes the day
Then comes the night.
After the darkness
Shines through the light.
Silver eyes swept over the Sith Lord whom she always found, somehow, that she needed. Once upon a time she had resolved to be the whisper of a conscience in the back of a mind that had suffered through lengthy torment. His being was twisted, though powerful, while his duties as the Vicelord broke him among the altar of caretaking his people. She had been the ice to his flame—The winter to his hellfire. They were hard on the senses, this much she knew, as an old friend by the name of Stephanie Swail had once explained. Snowfall in the hottest days of summer, a moon and sun hanging low in the same dark sky—Demons wearing white while holding picnic baskets of death and good fortune.
She caught sight of her reflection in the transparisteel. That wasn’t all she saw. [member="Derek Dib"] had arrived. Since the last meeting of the Viceroyalty the Viceroy of the Siskeen had scarcely been heard from. She understood on a basic level why that was, and yet, she did not. Srina was a practical creature and returned the barren smile that the dark-haired man had given. She felt as if she could feel his thoughts.
Concerns.
“High Councilor.”, she whispered, cold, whilst her words carried through the mingling voices with ease to circle around his ear canal. Srina did not have many whom she held a close kinship with. The Miralukan was one of the few that she tended to call on, more than once, when she needed to do something with a significant level of difficulty. From braving the ever-burning underworld of Coruscant to blowing Dreadnoughts out of the sky—[member="Voph"] was suitable.
Srina knew that security would be formidable during this gathering but she hadn’t realized that she would be assigned her own unit. [member="Darth Metus"] was…Fearsome. His Exarch, nay, his Apprentice still seemed to have some of the Viceroyalty that she had not yet returned to full functionality. Rather than to lash out against the Dauntless [[member="Luna Terrik"]] that had arrived to keep a blade from plunging into her back, she inclined her head in greeting, respectful, touched with grace.
“Thank you, Commander Terrik.”
“There are still some leaders that have fallen behind in the timetable. I expect that some will arrive when the summit is well underway. When they appear, despite the lateness of the hour, they must still observe all protocol.”
The arrival of members of the Silver Assembly was an expected, however, welcome sight. It was proof in an undeniable fashion that the ties between the Confederacy and the Silver Jedi remained unwavering. There were many eyes upon them, with many tongues wagging, and twice as many critics. Foreign powers accused their allies of being little more than sub-factions to their nation, simply, because they were able to overlook their differences and find common ground.
Her chilled focus slipped through them before moving over those that filtered in from the Outer Rim. She knew the names of those in attendance, mostly, because she would have been remiss not to—And others, because for whatever reason, she knew them from prior engagements. [member="John Locke"], for example, or even [member="Atlas Drake"]. She had first met him while once again greeting her devil-may-care Judge [member="Dax Fyre"], though, that had been quite some time ago. Perhaps he had forgotten.
Her perusal was interrupted, briefly, by the arrival of yet another one of her own. Silver eyes flickered. He had chiseled features, a strong jaw, and a reputation that was growing.
“High Marshal.”, she intoned, again, inclining her swanlike neck just enough. [member="Alden Akaran"] had a good head on his shoulders and when he extended a hand she shook it gently, though, the action was rather foreign to her.
“Your presence is appreciated.”
[member="Alkor Centaris"] was a presence that she could never miss. She did not need to see him to know he was there. The young woman had torn into him, both mentally, and physically when he defected to the Confederacy. Since Eshan…He had proven himself. So much so, that he had risen rapidly, and now claimed the title of Knight Commander along with [member="Madalena Antares"]. The two warriors were present not only to defend, but to keep the peace, and ensure that every representative left with the same number of body parts they had arrived with.
Srina nodded at the more feminine of the two Knight Commanders and knew that they would follow orders. In this room—With diligence, and care. These were allies of the Confederacy. Not, enemies.
[member="Darth Metus"] moved. Srina, moved. Their actions were entirely in sync, almost, like gravity or some undetectable magnets that were buried beneath their skin. The bond between Master and Apprentice was strong enough that she didn’t need to hear him speak to know where he stood. He was gentle toward their allies. Almost kind, because in the end, they had maintained this delicate balance since the time of the Galactic Alliance. It wasn’t just words on paper. It was…Everything. They were the reason the Confederacy had assembled. They were the reason for phantom drum beats that only seemed to be getting louder, and louder.
As the Vicelord stood throughout his speech—So did she. He didn’t require an introduction, obviously, and Srina didn’t care for titles in the first place. It was a necessity to ensure that the long arm of her Master’s law was carried out, regardless, if they were systems apart. Nothing more, nothing less. When [member="Darth Metus"] took his seat at the head of the table, she remained standing, and instead allowed a slender hand to rest on his shoulder. Always, she stood by his choices.
The holo-projector leapt into being. Images assaulted them. Carnage. Eshan…
Eshan crushed her heart, what was left of it, and caused the darkness in her being to move. Silver eyes momentarily bled to a burnished gold while thoughts of her Queen, [member="Spencer Jacobs"], just barely kept a sneer from crossing her porcelain features. Somehow—She remained impassive. Quiet, observant. For their allies here today, for her Queen, her people, she could only be seen as perfect. Untouched, unbroken.
“These images are shocking. They will burn you. They should, burn you. Yet…It is the truth.”, she spoke aloud, slowly, while her gaze remained firmly on the projections. She didn’t look away from it for several reasons. Respect, among them.
“Consider what this position will mean for you. Not only the immediate impact—But what ferocity may inevitably follow. Whether it comes in the form of repercussions from war itself, or, the price to be paid for potential inaction…There will most assuredly be a cost that we are all intimately familiar with.”
She fell silent after that, letting others weigh in, so as not to control the narrative anymore than they already had. It was the desire of the Confederacy that their allies leave this meeting with open eyes. There was no advantage, strategically, for the CIS to attack the Clans of Mandalore. They had simply been pushed, with ever act of violence against their allies, and now, finally, they had been pressed too far.
It was time to push back.
To her surprise, it was a representative of the Silvers, who brought yet another incident to light. Srina frowned. Was this what the Clans intended to do? Voph spoke, bringing up her silent fears, though ultimately, they could not fully substantiate the claim. Much of it was speculation. The Exarch did not dream in wishes or wants, moreover, she favored empirical data. All that being said…They didn’t need to rattle the shelves to find more ghosts in the closet. Proof enough, damning proof, had been experienced by most of the people beneath this roof.
“What we will do…It will not be for the faint of heart. Our response must come soon so that we may draw a line, uncontested, in the sand. Some of you may not agree. Some of you may have personal stakes that will sway your decisions…”, she trailed off, seemingly gently, while mercurial eyes fell pointedly on [member="Veiere Arenais"]. She did not pretend to know everything, however, their Ministry of Secrets made it their job to know where the ebb and flow of power rose and fell. The former King of Commenor could not stay off their radar. Not when decisions like this were on the table.
“No one would think ill of you if you chose recuse yourself, Master Arenais, for the duration of this excursion.”
“I do not intend to suggest anything untoward of your loyalty. Nor do I wish to place you on the spot…But there is a bantha in the room. A husband fighting his wife…”, she glanced down at her Master, briefly, letting her mind brush his. She found agreement.
“We’ll not ask that of you.”
Despite the frigid nature of her demeanor, her words held a sense of understanding, perhaps lent to the Sithling after watching images of her homeworld being destroyed. Srina was quite clearly giving the Jedi an out if he chose it. Not to mention the fact that the Confederacy intended to win. They would be remiss not to know what side their allies stood on. Some would argue that there weren’t actually sides to pick from, but those who spoke of it, had not walked the streets of Eshan or Umbara as of late.
There was a side.
It was time to choose.