Private Some Souls Sing Softly, Some Speak Sharply

[Arcturus Dinn]

He had not long since said goodbye to Pharus Dystra - in fact, the boy and his parents had only minutes prior stepped through the veil - and yet Arcturus Dinn still had not transported himself back to the Grotto. The Nether felt more like home to him in that moment than anywhere else in the Galaxy, its cold embrace familiar, and chaotic in all of the right ways. He knew that nothing was as it seemed in this place, that everything could shift and change at a moment's notice.​

​

When similar things happened back in Realspace it was just... jarring. Turned everything on its head. But here? It was impossible to tell if up was up and down was down. That was just the way of things.​

​

As he made his way along the bank of the River of Souls, he tried to make sense of everything which had happened the day prior. So much had crumbled in his hands, and even those who had not outright left would need sincere apologies and time to heal, time to trust him again, if they ever did.​

​

Zachariah had already admitted to wanting to go away for a while. Not to permanently leave, not to break away from the family or his Apprenticeship, but just some time to realize he was free, and he was safe. Or to be taught ways to ensure both remained true.​

​

The Twins were okay, if a little shaken, and he'd already sent for one of the best psychiatrists in their field to see that Rhiannon was well tended to and helped back to a more level state. That left Forrest, Darien, and Theryn. He'd handle the first in the morning, during their training sessions, but the Mercurians? That would require a lot more work to fix. Frankly, Arcturus was afraid he might never.​

​

He'd already planned on handing him the lands surrounding his City, from the Mountains of Ámathosia eastward to the coast, enveloping the City of Muses in the process. Would it seem now like he was placating? His plan had been to gift them to Darien after the trial... that hadn't happened though.​

​

What to do, what to do. How to right this horrid wrong? Prove he was still an ally worth having, to be trusted, to believe in. ​

​

So he wandered, and wandered, and wandered some more... Until an idea came to mind. Darien had a Father, a now deceased Father, did he not? What had his name been..? Arc squinted in thought, brows furrowing, then recalled it.​

​

Lucien. Lucien Cordel.​

​

Well, there was a chance that he was still here somewhere. Those souls with unfinished work so often lingered in limbo, as did the fathers and mothers who died when their children were still much too young to care for themselves properly. They clung to whatever shred of existence they could, in hopes that they could one day herald them safely to the afterlife, into the Force itself, when the time came. In hopes that they would not be forced to linger in this purgatory forever.​

​

So he did as he always did when initially seeking someone he was unfamiliar with in the Netherworld, he simply called out for him. "Lucien Cordel!" His words echoed off the river's surface. "Lord of Skye!"​

​

Wax fast appeared before him, head tilting to one side. "Another soul already?" the Shadow asked, somewhat fretfully, "The cost will only magnify, Mister Sandman..."​

​

"I just... need to speak with him."​

​

The Shadow did not seem entirely convinced, and yet he dipped his head all the same then vanished. No doubt to try other realms of the Nether. For his part, Arcturus continued to walk and call out, no doubt tempting the darker entities of this plane toward him in the process. Good thing he always had his dagger.​

​

Lucien Cordel ​

 

[Lucien Cordel]

Lucien had been dead for ... well more years than he liked to think of. He had been lingering in the nether for those many long years, learning its ways and rebuilding a life ... unlife ... for himself. Lucien had always had a canny ability to pull himself out of the mire when it seemed things had gone desperately wrong. Somehow with each misfortune, he had eventually emerged with more riches and power.

Excepting of course that last occasion when he had found himself dead and worse bankrupt. Well, as bankrupt as a rich person ever was. There had still been the palace on Skye, now rubble, and a handful of estates and properties now probably museums and antique dealers. He hoped he'd managed to have at least one museum dedicated to him.

He must have done a few significant things in his life, surely? He'd trained an emperor for one though he hoped historians of the future might have trouble determining whether Dranock the emperor he trained and Dranock the slave, he named, were in fact, different people.

Museums and Historians aside Lucien had once again built himself something of a life ... unlife ... it was hollower than life had been in real space, things were just blander in death. Colours muted, tastes blander, feelings ... well he felt little anymore. Each passing year had wicked from him what one might call humanity and he was closer to a shadow now than he was to a man. Not that he had lost his corporeal form. No, to look upon him he could mostly pass for alive. His eyes were a little dead and he had an eternal bleeding wound on his right temple but most of the time he seemed alive.

He found however that his body moved in twelve-hour cycles. No matter what he did it would move through stages of decline until he looked as corpse-like as well ... a corpse. When he was angry the wounds he had sustained in his last moments manifested themselves though he did not feel them.

He was not really a lord or ruler here but he did have power. His skills and talents made him invaluable to the shadows who were native to this strange limbo he was trapped in. Perhaps his lack of any real motivation to move on was part of his entrapment but he was sure there had once been worries and concerns. He felt a desire for revenge too and a need to ensure he was remembered.

He rather wished he had not been remembered quite that moment though.

"What?!" He snapped as wax materialised before him as he was about to enter an upscale cocktail lounge in Masque after a most delightful dinner.

The shadow seemed to frown at him "Your presence is desired by Mister Sandman" The being answered. Lucien grumbled but he knew the name of Mister Sandman, he was on good terms with many of the Shadows who gave Lucien his life of privilege and it would not do to offend him.

"Take me" he insisted, the shadow inclined his head in a nod and Lucien was behind Arc in an instant, Wax disappearing soundlessly.

Lord of Skye. He had not been Lord of Skye in many long years. Long before he died even, not since his golden age in the fringe when all seemed possible. He might have missed those days if he still felt anything stronger than constant disapproval. Still many on Skye had called him their lord long after the Fringe was gone.

Tapping his foot on the ground he announced "I have not been Lord of Skye in many years ... " He probed out the mind of the man who summoned him. He was not going to use a trading name. If Arc resisted he would feel a sharp pain behind his eyes like a laser as Lucien punctured his way in "Thesh" he said the earliest name this being remembered having. He had been given many names and titles but the first ... that was what Lucien would use. One could climb as high as they liked but they could never escape the first impression they made upon the world.

"Do you know what time it is?" He hissed looking at his watch despite the fact it served little purpose in the Nether "... why do you summon me to this accursed river?"

Arcturus Dinn

 

[Arcturus Dinn]

Arcturus was indeed still by the River of the Dead when Wax returned with who he presumed was Mister Cordel. However, he was not at the same end of the river as he had been when bidding farewell to Pharus. There he'd stood by the Chasm of Passing, an honestly rather gentle place in so far as the Nether was concerned. Less dangers lingered there. But now?​

​

Well, now Arcturus was nearing a place that raised sheer dread within him. The Dreaming Dark. It was here that they had fought to free Spencer from the Nether at the heel of Ashin, here he'd first fought off beasties of this monstrous realm. It was also here that he'd been called by the Force to assist Seydon of Arda with his own escape, the man having been stuck behind when they made their first big escape.​

​

The Dreaming Dark was, in many ways, the epitome of necrotic. It ate are your soul piece by piece, removing any hope, any emotions, any memories, until you were but a shell of yourself. That was, if one of the inhabitants didn't devour you first. Or maybe you'd find yourself dealing with both... Most, in fact, did. First the mutilation of their hearts and minds, and then the desecration of their body.​

​

Why he had come to this place he was not sure. He was still beside the River but everything upon the bank had taken on a far more dreary state. Even now he could see that oil spill in the distance, shimmering in the air like a warbling portal. It was easy to see why so many fell into its frigid embrace, from the outside looking in it was a most mesmerizing place. Hypnotic, even.​

​

Thankfully Arcturus knew better than to be drawn in. He pursed his lips in consideration. Surely not... He'd done some research into Lucien Cordel since first meeting Darien, he was a cunning and intelligent man, a Sith Lord who'd had his hand in the rise of Emperors. Then again, Spencer had once been strong too... And Seydon was most formidable, he'd lasted years in the Dreaming Dark before Arcturus had shown him the way out. Killed many of those vacuous buggers too.​

​

Wax's appearance put an end to such thoughts. Not the Dreaming Dark, Lucien looked as though he'd never stepped foot in that rotting carcass of a realm though he didn't exactly look great either. Sometimes Arcturus forgot this was a place for the restless souls, and not boys looking for adventure, mystery, and intrigue.​

​

The Shadow vanished with just a soft inclination of his head toward Arcturus and two big thumbs up. He was grinning, Arcturus knew that without even looking at Wax's face. Proud, but also eager for whatever reward he'd receive this time.​

​

As for Lucien...​

​

"It seemed wrong to summon you with anything less" he stated insofar as the title was concerned. Before he could say much of anything else, however, he felt a presence on the edge of his mind, pressing and probing for entrance. Arcturus tried to misdirect his thoughts, the way his Master had taught him to, but next to a Master Mentalist he stood no chance. As reward for his attempts he felt a searing pain in the back of his mind, and stabbing behind his eyes.​

​

Arcturus winced and raised up a hand to pinch the bridge of his nose, tried to resist further... and ended up with a bloody nose. He relented only then, not wishing to see his brain scrambled in the name of.... well, names, apparently. Specifically names he'd long since forsaken.​

​

"That is the name of a slave" Arcturus stated, pushing down the more bristly response which had immediately sought to leap up. He was a grown man now, he could handle listening to it said even if it dragged up most unsavoury memories. ​

​

When asked if he knew what time it was, Arcturus reached to his belt with its pouches filled with trinkets and pulled forth a small hourglass whose sands seemed to flow both ways simultaneously. He tapped it, hummed, and then inclined his head slightly. "I must have dragged you from dinner, I sincerely apologize." Tucking the curio away where it belonged, he lifted his gaze and met Lucien's own.​

​

"I'm here about your son... I fear I have ruined what little good faith he had in me, and I hope to find a way to remedy that." Arcturus was sincere in his desires to make good with Darien. To be all that he had promised and more. But it was hard to judge how to approach a man who gave so little of himself away. "I was hoping you'd have some insider information. And please, allow me to buy you dinner for the inconvenience."​

​

Lucien Cordel ​

 

[Lucien Cordel]

Ah the Dreaming Dark, Lucien looked up at it inky and glistening in the dreary ... sky? ... as they landed before the being was aware of him. Even now so many years into his stay in this limbo he felt a pull to it. An urge to walk right into its heart come what may even knowing its' destructive power. It was like the feeling one got when one looked out of a high spot to the ground below. An urge to fly even knowing there would be a fall and then a nothingness. Lucien had stood on its edges many times as he cast those who forgot or never bothered to learn that in this unlife one's word was a thing to be kept. Perhaps that had been the cause of his loss of humanity, not that he felt anything had been lost to him ... at least in that regard.

He had never been into it himself ... never heard the whaling of the lost or shambled around as mind then body was ravaged. His own particular circumstances ravaged him enough.

He spoke and the being who summoned him turned to look at him. Lucien had a sixth sense for grinning fools and he felt the shadow behind him practically bursting with self-satisfaction manifested in a dumb grin that he could not even see. A better man might have admitted that he would have thought ill of wax even if he weren't grinning like a demented thing, the true source of Lucien's ire had been the summons not the grin after all ... Lucien was not a better man however, certainly not in his thoughts and so Wax was branded a fool in his mind.

"Would that it had seemed wrong to summon me at all ... " he muttered under his breath. Irritation made his head wound that bit more severe as if a second chunk of debris had struck him and his hands showed marginally greater signs of distress as if they too had handled rubble. In life, no one had dared summon him in many years, invite him perhaps but never summon. If someone wanted him they had journeyed to find him. It was different here though and Lucien was still not contented with it. The minor indignities of death he supposed.

His mind reached out to Arcturus' and the man resisted. It was amusing at first as the man's mind jumped around in an effort to stop him in his tracks. It soon became tiresome however and Lucien stopped probing in half measures. Still, Arcturus stubbornly held out despite the obvious pain in his head. It was only when his blood began to pour from his nose that he gave in "That was arrogant" he frowned as he found what he wanted.

Thesh was a slave name from the old empire and Arcturus soon confirmed as much, slightly indignantly too. Lucien tilted his head "The name of a slave and a Lord and a ... God ... now that is interesting" he half smiled at that, this man was one of those Sith who ended up claiming divinity, it was very passé gather enough... not even ten ... sith in a room and throw a stone you were almost guaranteed to hit a 'god' he shrugged "All the same despite all that has changed, in many ways you are still Thesh ... he follows you everywhere just over your left shoulder waiting to drag you back there ... back to the slave shuttle" He remarked nodding into empty air.

Arcturus would never be more than Thesh until he learned to put the slave down so it could never get up again.

A god who could not forget he had once been a slave, interesting. He had amused himself with the man's memories now and he was reminded that he had been dragged from his planned evening of enjoyment by this man leading him to behave indignantly himself. His eyes rolled hard as Arcturus actually checked the time. Clearly, the man was not the god of quips and brains. At least he had the foresight not to actually announce what time it was. He apologised too which Lucien liked. There was nothing like a good bit of contrition.

"Worse than dinner ... pre-dinner drinks" Lucien grumbled, that was where the magic happened.

He ran his tongue along his teeth in a look of displeasure as Thesh offered him food in repayment for the inconvenience he had put him to. How far had he fallen that this was all his time was worth? Yet Thesh had the advantage of his friendship with the shadows and more pertinently his knowledge of Darien. Even here with much of his old way draining away, he still remembered his adopted son. The boy, now no doubt man he had meant to hand a legacy to. All he had given him was bad debts and a target on his back. He hungered for word of his son.

"You know Darien?" he said eyeing the man "You have found perhaps the one thing that will persuade me to linger in your presence" He stepped toward the man and nodded insistently for him to lead the way. Of course, depending upon how Arcturus had managed to offend Darien he might come to find the dead lord's presence less than a boon. He exhaled needlessly "You should begin by telling me what you have done to Darien ... then I will decide if I am willing to help you"

Not that it was a guarantee that Lucien could help, He had failed to raise Darien once and the second go of it had hardly gone much better. It might be said that Lucien barely knew his son either.

Arcturus Dinn

 

[Arcturus Dinn]

Arrogant, or perhaps instinct, either way Arcturus soon fell to Lucien's meddling in his mind and with the name came snippets of his life that the man saw fit to sift through. He spoke truths though, truths the slave-turned-Lord had not yet managed to fully confront for himself. There lingered deep inside that slave still, with a firm grip over his heart. It was, perhaps, the most pressing thing which sought to help the lost and the wounded. Those who had seen and known the horrors he had.​

​

Apparently this needed to be nipped in the bud, though. He could not keep overlooking threats and issues in hopes that he could fix everyone by softer means. Rhiannon came to mind specifically.​

​

"It is a hard past to truly outrun" he agreed, "But we are not here to talk about that, good sir."​

​

Oh so this was about drinks, was it. Finding a way past reality by numbing one's mind. Yes, from the look of Lucien with his head wounds he certainly needed things numbed in some manner.​

​

Talks turned to Darien, and it seemed Lucien was at least somewhat willing to take him up on his offer of food, or perhaps the idea of drinks, so he reached out a hand and touched the man on the arm. One step was taken, but it crossed leagues of the Nether, then another, and so forth. Arcturus knew well the path to Masque at this point, he also knew enough about this blasted realm to make use of its incorporeal, ever shifting state. Nothing was as it seemed here, and Arc had found ways to bend it to his will.​

​

"It is less what I have done, and more what I did not do," he explained, as the City soon lay before them. Another step and they were inside, within perhaps the fanciest district it had to offer, and stood before a fine dining restaurant dubbed N3CT4R. Prestigious, almost impossible to get a reservation for, never mind last minute, yet the doorman waved them inside regardless with a tip of his head and a quiet "Sandman." Arcturus simply nodded, and continued on in as if it were just another ordinary day.​

​

It was probably the most expensive place he'd ever stepped foot in, establishment wise, the very definition of fine dining. That it existed within the Nether of all places didn't seem to tarnish its opulence, in fact if anything it was all the more spectacular for it. The walls shifted between a myriad of tastefully muted colours, most of which were incomprehensible to the human eye, the music which drifted down from above was simultaneously sweet and sorrowful, and seemed to some how fit every occasion at once, and the space between tables seemed far more vast than the building seemed to have space for when looking in from the outside.

Privacy was assured, yet even as they were led to a table it didn't feel isolating in a bad way. Still somehow retained its intimacy.

​

​

"I erroneously did not intervene with my wife's paranoia until it was too late, and it has caused a great rift between us... All of us. I know how to fix things with my wife, and get her the help she needs, but Darien..?"​

​

A chair was pulled out at the table for each of them, and Arcturus sank into it. "Two Sanctuary menu's, Mister Sandman?" the Shadow who had pulled out his chair, and taken his jacket, asked. "Just one, my good sir, he can eat whatever the standard." With a nod he brought out two menus, one a mossy green which he set before Arcturus and the other maroon. "Wine, Sirs?" This time it was Arcturus' time to nod, though he looked to Lucien. "Do you have a preference?"​

​

Once they had made their decision, the Shadow left them to peruse their menus. Arcturus didn't immediately open his though, they were part way through a conversation however. ​

​

Lucien Cordel ​

 

[Lucien Cordel]

One could be both instinctive and arrogant. Instinctively arrogant? Arrogantly instinctive? There was arrogance in not arresting ill-conceived instincts. It denoted a complacency that Lucien did not like. Especially now that he had died and ended up in this purgatory that was too much like life and yet unimaginably hollow. He wanted to be so fearsome that no one did anything in his presence that they had not thought through. No more was said about it though and Arcturus was soon overcome. His time as a slave played out before Lucien as the name rang out in echoey fashion. Touching and colouring all that came after to a greater or lesser degree.

Lucien tilted his head "Some things can not be outrun ... " He began before Arcturus made clear that he had not been summoned to discuss that particular thorn in the psyche. Lucien smiled at the dismissal but he was not happy or pleased "I see and who am I to dictate what I spend my time discussing?" Lucien had to be careful, he was somewhat at the mercy of the shadows and the shadows liked this being. Even if he was starting to irritate Lucien.

It came clearer what they were to discuss and Lucien did have to concede he was perhaps the closest one could find to an expert on Darien. He was the boy's father by agreement, though not by blood. Perhaps the boy's true parents lingered somewhere in this land but would they know the boy Darien had become? that seemed unlikely. The Darien who existed now was a far cry from the Darien they had known. It had not all been changed for the better. Darien Cordel was a broken being. Twice broken perhaps. Lucien still felt shame over that even now.

Perhaps that is why he stayed in Arc's presence. Even the displeasure of Shadows would only compel him so far but Darien ... Lucien owed Darien.

The zipping and folding of movement in this realm no longer phased Lucien and he reacted with nonchalance to them crossing vast distances in single steps. He had become accustomed to the ways of the world and it allowed him to forget the nausea of the first few times. He had put aside his grievances with Arcturus before they were in the city. His mind focused upon Darien and how Arcturus might have caused grievances with him. He was tempted simply to look but ... he would learn more from how Arcturus relayed the problem than from seeing how he remembered it.

"You are deluding yourself" Lucien replied "People only blame us for omissions when our previous actions made them expect something of us" He replied. If one did not count on you to do something they did not get annoyed at you for not doing it. No one blamed their baker for not selling meat but they would blame their butcher.

Further detail came only when they had moved through the doors of N3CT4R. Lucien had dined there once or twice. He knew of its prestige and its lengthy waiting lists and yet this former slave was waved through and his name whispered in almost reverence. The man didn't even have the decency to look bashful about it as they were led inside and seated at a table. "I suppose you think that very impressive" Lucien muttered. He was not impressed. He felt a pang in his chest as a 'rib' gave way beneath his clothing and he recalled a time when he had held such sway over the reservation lists of fine establishments.

The problem it seemed came down to the man's wife ... paranoia. It was all still light on detail and Lucien felt a growing urge to simply pillage this man's mind for the information and decide from there what he did. Against his darker urges, he resisted, however. Silently following as they were seated and the waiter spoke exclusively to Arcturus. As if he were too lack-witted to answer for himself. It would not do to make a scene however so Lucien sat seething in silence until he was finally involved. did he have a preference? Obviously. He was not a slack-jawed yokel content to order the house red without even knowing what the house red was.

"That will depend upon what we order" he answered he was hardly going to be seen pairing fish with red like some member of the underclass "We will have water for now"

The waiter was gone and Lucien picked up his menu looking at it and not Arcturus "You are remaining light upon details Thesh ... I can only think you are doing so intentionally, I can simply pare off the truth from your mind instead if you prefer ... " He looked up from the menu "But why should I help you if you will not admit the entire story?"

 

[Arcturus Dinn]

"You are free to decide what you say" Arcturus said, as though that were not obvious, even now he struggled to know when to leave the rhetorical alone. It was not too long ago when a lack of an answer was met harshly, after all. "I would just rather it not be that name you use, if it please you."​

​

Likely it did not. The Cordels seemed similar in their dislike of Arcturus, it was a thing he had to swallow. So often the former slave sought to befriend, perhaps it was a trauma response to avoid conflict and harm, but he was coming to understand that not everyone could be friendly, not everyone could like him. A hard pill to swallow, but one he was gulping down all the same.​

​

As for what he caused Darien to expect, Arcturus inclined his head slightly in consideration. "I promised to step up," he stated, "To fully embrace the position of leadership I'd been appointed to. I fear your son believed I could change overnight, and that is in truth my folly." A Cathar could not change its stripes, yet Arcturus was working hard to do precisely that.​

​

Not hard enough, however.​

​

"We were not in my realm when the issue arose, I defaulted back to the wishes of my wife, took a back seat when I should have stood in opposition to her decisions. For that I have been understandably damned."​

​

Through the doors of the restaurant they wandered, and when Lucien's snide snip was made he did not give it acknowledgement and instead allowed it to wash over him. He would not rise to such, he did not find it at all impressive in fact he was merely hoping not to draw attention to any of it. Another mistake on his part, then.​

​

Lucien refused to order the wine until he knew what it was they'd be eating, and as such water was sent for instead. Arcturus did not try to order anything different, he would trust Lucien's judgement in such. He wasn't much of a drinker, not since his crawl along the Corellian Run... That hadn't gone so well for him, had it? He could still taste the blood in his mouth from the gladiatorial arena.​

​

The man's query was well placed. Arcturus thumbed open the menu, staring almost idly at the words strewn across it, as he considered how to speak. "Truthfully, I would rather show you than tell you," he said, "Let you gain a more objective view of it all." Or, as objective as memories could present. With a heavy sigh, he folded the menu shut once more and leaned back in his seat.​

​

"My mind is yours to rifle through, so long as it remains unscathed. I have nothing to hide from you." He was, at his heart, a simple man. His thoughts had rarely ever been his own, more often than not they had been torn from his mind anyway. That was going to change going forward, of course, as he strengthened his position and his resolve, but in this it made little difference to him.​

​

Lucien Cordel​