Private Squeeze

[Arris Windrun]

THE AURIC HORDE
THE MOON OF SHEVA
Tags: Mercy | Varin Mortifer | Neriah Calven | Ghruna | Acier Moonbound (Invitation offered but not required.)

How long had it been? A day? Maybe two? House Calipsa had become synonymous with massacre in the lexicon of galactic history. But it hadn't ended there. All of Tapani's major houses, in some way or another, faced the chopping block. It was only a matter of time until the Covenant's fist squeezed tight and the whole Sector fell limp in their grasp.

Those under the Dark Horse's watch were invited aboard the Warmaster's vessel - The Siegemother.

"Mercy Star-Arm," the cyborg's voice echoed through the almost organic tunnels that made up the metal monster's gut. All paths, it didn't matter which, led to one place.

They arrived at the entrance to her Throne. Doors shut, unguarded... for why would Mercy of all people need guards? Such was the whim of washed old men who could only imagine legitimacy measured in entourage. Or at least, that was how Arris imagined the Kaggath Champion saw things.

She stopped and looked the acolytes over. "The boss will see ya now," she said with a snicker.

Arris was in a surprisingly good mood, despite recent events that transpired. It was the horizon she saw, true opportunity in Mercy's wake. It had her reminiscing about the old times when they first met, that beautiful and perfect fight. Had she always remembered it so fondly? Had it always held her so firmly? She couldn't quite remember. But that did not matter now.

She had no advice for them. Not another word as her fist slammed against the door, and slowly the halves parted ways. A sliver of light and an aura of darkness escaped the growing rift.

Each was ushered inside. But when it came for Acier to pass her by, Arris had a word.

"Oh - some of the acolytes wanted you to have a little welcoming present."

Her arm had barely moved, her eyes never left his, and there wasn't even a reflection of her intention in her tone or expression. Hell, it might've come across as the most genuine and normal thing she's said to him. And yet - in less than a second - a revolver slipped into her grip and fired a beanbag point-blank at his side.

 

[Varin Mortifer]

He followed with the group, their footsteps echoing off the walls. The intertwined halls gave the illusion of options but they all led to the same end it seemed. He stayed silent as they traversed the ship. His cracked helm over his head revealing his good eye that still burned with a vibrant fury. This would be his first official meeting with Mercy, he had met her before under other circumstances but he had looked past that now.

They stopped at the doors and Arris then spoke before slamming her fist into the door, opening it slowly. Varin kept his eyes forward into the throne room ahead. He stepped in, then heard Arris speak to Acier. Already Varin knew it was not going to be pretty for him.

The shot reverberated off the walls followed by a heavy thudded impact. Varin quickly turned around.

Did she just…?

No, there was no blood. He stood over Arris and Acier for a moment, then entered the room.

“Chin up and chest higher Acier. At least it was not the sternum.”

His voice carried into the throne room as he stopped in the middle of the floor, slowly looking around at their surroundings, Mercy sitting before them, the massive mountain of muscle ahead of them. He had grown a lot since they had last met face to face, though he doubted she would remember him. In fact it would surprise him if she did.

He pulled his mace out of its holster on his back and stood it in front of him, both palms resting on the pommel. He waited patiently for the others to join.

Arris Windrun | Acier Moonbound | Mercy | Ghruna | Neriah Calven​

 

[Acier Moonbound]

Location: Moon of Sheva - Siegemother

Equipment:
Acolyte Robes| Lightsaber | Cybernetic Arm

The Siegemother felt wrong in a way Ace had learned not to comment on. It had been two days since Calipsa. Two days since he'd stood in a noble hall turned slaughterhouse and told himself that this was the price of infiltration. That should've scared him more than it did.​

​

He walked with the others, eyes taking everything in without settling. Tapani hadn't broken him. It had flattened him. Smoothed the sharp edges down into something cold and workable.​

​

They were here to see 'the boss' - Mercy. For whatever reason. But, maybe it was an opportunity to learn more. As each of his fellow Acolytes entered inside, Arris stopped him as he moved to enter. Ace clocked the shift immediately - not the words, but the Force. That familiar pit in his stomach when danger was abound.​

​

Windrun had said something about a 'welcoming present'. Then the shot hit before thought did. Impact exploded along his side that stole the air from his lungs and folded him to one knee, clutching at his side. White, blunt, furious pain​

​

For a fraction of a second, Ace didn't think. His head snapped up, eyes locking on Arris, and what looked back at her wasn't calculation. It wasn't the careful, distant fury he usually wore like armor. It was raw. Unfiltered. Destructive.​

​

In that instant, he saw it. In his eyes, how easy it would be. He could crush the breath out of her chest, twist gravity until her body failed, still her heart with a thought. The space around Arris seemed to tighten as his rage spiked, the Force surging in a violent, intimate swell - eager and immediate.​

​

He didn't doubt it. This wasn't impulse. It was inheritance. Centuries of intent, of bodies and bloodlines shaped to produce something that could bend the Force itself. He had been bred to break worlds.​

​

Then, he drew a slow, deliberate breath through his nose, teeth clenched hard enough to ache. Biting through the pain, Ace slowly rose to his feet. The rage didn't vanish; it compressed, forced back down, contained by sheer will.​

​

When he straightened, his expression was controlled again... but not untouched. He looked at Arris, the heat still banked behind his eyes, leaking through the cracks. He said nothing, just the clear, unmistakable knowledge that she'd been a heartbeat away from reckoning. Maybe she'd survive, kill him, but she'd remember him.​

​

Varin stood over the pair, attempting to uplift Ace - in his own, Varin way. But he simply stepped past the both of them uttering a single:​

​

"Shut up."​

​

He wasn't going to forget this. The other acolytes that were in on this? He'd find them.​

​

Arris Windrun | Mercy | Varin Mortifer | Neriah Calven | Ghruna​

 

[Lysander von Ascania]

He wasn't going to forget this. The other acolytes that were in on this? He'd find them.

One of them was already on display. A Sith Apprentice down the hall, arms crossed, spine up against wall, trying incredibly hard to look unbothered.

Being aboard the Siegemother always felt like agreeing to a bad wager.. and taking the seat anyway. He knew that long before his boots ever hit the deck. Of course, this was a ship that would never stop reminding you of risks, especially given that it belonged to Mercy. The type of place that didn't really need guards. Anyone worth worrying about already knew why they should behave. Right?

Arris came into view, and any doubts about the credits spent evaporated.

Then came the shot.

Bam!

He winced internally a full second before Ace actually went down, folded like he skipped a meeting where his pride couldn’t argue back for once. The sound alone could’ve done half the damage.

A beanbag.. point blank.

Anyway, it wasn’t like there was blood.

The corner of his mouth twitched before he could help it. It wasn’t laughing.. more like solidarity. You’re going to hate that bruise tomorrow, but you’ll live. He’d trained with Ace long enough on Thrantin to know the former Jedi had some opinions, and a habit of letting them stretch their legs. He figured someone would test that eventually. Apparently today was scheduled.

Okay, yeah, Lysander thought, approval threading through it. That’ll do.

Well, anger like that meant Ace hadn’t gone numb. Growth was rarely polite, and it sure as hell wasn’t quiet.

But anger was also easy. Control wasn't. He managed both in breath, and that could've even been counted as progress depending on which Sith you asked.

Yep. That tracks. Hurt, pissed, and still standing. Checks out.. he's slowly becoming one of us.

The realest truth? Better to learn that lesson here than somewhere it would cost more than pride.

After that, the blonde peeled off before anyone could notice, slipping into a side corridor where his temporary quarters waited.

 

[Neriah Calven]

Tag: Varin Mortifer Ghruna Acier Moonbound Arris Windrun Mercy

Neriah had nothing to say as she made her way past the other Acolytes, as they had turned to look over at Acier, after his little "gift". He would live. Even if it had been a blaster bolt. Neriah had taken one to the chest what felt like a life time ago. The wrath and anger she had at the time had kept her alive. Had let her push through the pain. Acier had far more of that than Neriah ever did. As if he was a blazing fountain of hatred and wrath that fed into itself. A vicious cycle, ensuring that he would not burn himself out like she had.

Either way, she stood off to the side once she entered the room, folding her hands behind her back like usual. It was best in her eyes for her to neither be seen, nor heard. A walking corpse (metaphorical of course, considering the fact the Covenant had...literal walking corpses) had no reason to be spoken to. Neriah was only here because she had been told to. Acier and Varin had been the one who had produced the most results. Same with Ghruna. They had the fire. They had the drive. Neriah had...nothing.

In a way, it was fortunate for her. In the same way she wasn't feeling anger or hatred, the Acolyte didn't quite feel fear either. Even the hatred from others that would ooze off like a vile stench just...faded through her. Ignorant to it all, or at least choosing to ignore it all. It was time for Neriah to just stand and listen.

​

 

[Ghruna]

GHRUNA

Ghruna watched the exchange without much reaction, only a flinch as the shot went off. For a moment she thought Acier had been murdered.

Acier folded and then stood again. She could see him battle his instincts. She understood that part immediately. Pain. Rage. Control. His strength had been measured by endurance.

Surely, it was a test.

She did not look at Acier when it was done. He had passed. That was clear enough. Her attention settled instead on Arris, head tilting her horns to one side slightly as if she were reassessing something she had misunderstood at first.

Ghruna took a single step forwards. She left her hands at her sides.

"You shot him," she said.

She glanced once at Acier’s side, then back again. A slow nod followed, satisfied. It was a test. That felt obvious. Reasonable, even. She didn't understand human culture but the old Sith lessons had been passed down on her isolated homeworld.

She gave a firm nod. She wondered how much it had hurt.

"If this is a test, shoot me too," she said. The slightest grin - unaware of her misunderstanding and Arris' manipulation - revealed fangs.

 

[Arris Windrun]

Tags: Acier Moonbound | Varin Mortifer | Mercy | Neriah Calven | Ghruna | Lysander von Ascania

Arris felt a touch of the Force carry Acier's intent to kill her. She returned a grin as he glared at her, but said nothing.

She watched him follow the others inside, then turned her attention to Ghruna.

"You shot him," she said.

"Yeah."

Arris wondered where this was going, especially given her apparent examination of Acier's injury and some deeper contemplation the cyborg couldn't read.

"If this is a test, shoot me too," she said. The slightest grin - unaware of her misunderstanding and Arris' manipulation - revealed fangs.

She was surprised. "Huh?" Arris chuckled. "You know what?"

Her revolver lifted for a second time and fired a beanbag round straight at the Maldrani's chest. Arris admittedly had a soft spot for other freaks and weirdos like herself. At least, that was how she read this interaction, knowing absolutely nothing about the acolyte's culture or expectations.

A twirl of her revolver, then it went back into the holster.

Arris waited for Ghruna to regain before following her into the room with the rest of them. Though she looked once over her shoulder to spy Lysander. She didn't see one, but Arris felt he was smirking. With a wink, she turned back and continued inside.

 

[Ghruna]

The impact was worse than being kicked in the chest. Ghruna’s breath left her in a sharp, involuntary bark as the beanbag struck centre mass. The force took her off her feet.

Pain bloomed across her chest, deep and heavy. She coughed and one hand reached out to try and find the floor.

She pushed herself to one to one knee, one hand braced against the floor. Her horns dipped as she sucked in air through clenched teeth, tail lashing once behind her. The noise around them dimmed at the edges as she focused on the sensation, cataloguing it.

At least Arris was a good shot. Ghruna was glad she hadn't been shot right in the tit or into the hollow of one throat. The bruise was going to be bad enough.

She stayed there for a few more pained breaths then pushed herself upright with a low grunt. The ache remained, spreading slow and warm beneath the leather, but nothing felt broken. Her breathing steadied. Her spine straightened.

 

[Mercy]

Tags: Arris Windrun Varin Mortifer Acier Moonbound Neriah Calven Ghruna Lysander von Ascania

Mercy's throne was not comfortable.

It was forged from durasteel plating, obsidian stone and aurodium lining. Each was sourced from a battle or a victory. Durasteel from Atrisia where the Imperials' fleet had broken. Obsidian from the Emperor's throne and tower, the one they had taken after the Battle of Atrisia. Aurodium from the treasures of Tapani.

Not comfortable, no, but it was spacious and large enough to contain the mountain of a woman with little difficulty.

The first chair that Mercy could lounge in, shift, and not have it creak under the sudden pressure change.

She had been silent when the acolytes filled into the room. Watching quietly, the amber bled into her eyes, still in the thrall of the Dark Side from the Tapani conquest. It would remain for days to come after such aggressive use of the Force. Mercy only spoke when a revolver rang out, not once, but twice in a row.

Mouth curled in a smirk.

"Shenanigans this early in the morning, Windrun?" She finally said, her voice coarse but relaxed for now. "You must be in a really good mood, I am glad to see it."

Especially after the events of the Red Hand.

Her eyes flicked to the assortment of acolytes.

"I am told you distinguished yourself during the Tapani campaign. That you proved your worth. What do you think about that?" It was a question to the group as a whole, rather than a single individual. It was clear each one of them had a different temperament. From the hatred in Acier's heart to the bolsterous fury barely kept in from Varin. Who, yes, Mercy did recognize even if she didn't make that clear. She had beaten his friend to a pulp and the young ox had been eager to be next, all to defend his friend's honor.

She couldn't feel any of it, of course, her sense in the Force was negligible.

But Mercy had been brought up with the Echani and every twitch in their stance was a sentence.

 

[Varin Mortifer]

Varin stood relaxed before her, the group slowly coming together. He did not even flinch when the second shot went off and the pained groans and labored breaths that followed. He did not even flinch at the sight of the massive woman who sat upon her even larger throne. Pieced together by the spoils of battle and conquest. Varin had no disagreements about it, even his father sat upon a throne of bones from his enemies. Every new skull became a lovely piece of decor. It was not for pretty sights, it was a message and a warning.

Mercy had done something similar yet different from hers, respectable in Varin’s eyes to take what you have conquered and pieced it together to always be below you and bear your weight.

His hands had gripped the handle of his mace that was holding up his weight, the creaking of the leather wraps under his gauntleted fingers could not withstand silence. Mercy’s voice traveled to each person in the throneroom, acolyte, apprentice, knight, it didn’t matter. The throne room called out a question, and thrones do not dwell in silence. Varin slowly looked up to her.

“I merely did as I was born to do. Lay to ruin, destroy and conquer. Tapani lies broken. Its people, shattered and its ruler feeds their soil.”

Varin fell quiet for a moment as he processed the mission they had finished.

“I believe we should have taken in more subjects. Possible workers and slaves to further the covenants agenda and display the amount of control we could have over their people. The death toll was high, a lot of senseless killings ensued to those who would have been useful. Yet we were told to put them into the dirt.”

His grip relaxed a bit.

“Orders were followed to the letter. Each person here pulled their weight. I think worth lies more in being able to think for yourself in battle when orders do not seem to align with a greater goal.”

Varin’s voice fell silent as he maintained eye contact with Mercy. Unable to change what he had said, his voice and his words were committed to the walls and everyone's ears now.

Arris Windrun | Mercy | Acier Moonbound | Ghruna | Neriah Calven​

 

[Acier Moonbound]

Location: Moon of Sheva - Siegemother

Equipment:
Acolyte Robes| Lightsaber | Cybernetic Arm

Ace crossed the threshold into the throne room with his breathing already steady again, though the ache along his side hadn't faded. Every step tugged at it, every step a reminder as to why he was angry.

Behind him, he heard Ghruna asking to be shot too. Ace didn't turn, he simply rolled his eyes. Regardless of whether this was a cultural thing, or Ghruna eager to prove herself, Ace could only think of one thing.

Pain offered freely wasn't proof of strength. It was just pain, and Arris had been all too happy to provide it. Ace filed the thought away as he moved forward, letting the space swallow the sound of the second shot.

Then he saw Mercy. The throne alone was enough, but the woman sitting in it was worse. Massive. Still. Completely at ease beneath her own weight. The kind of presence that didn't need the Force to dominate a room. Ace slowed without meaning to, eyes lifting, posture instinctively squaring as if his body understood something his mind was still parsing. So that was her.

He took his place among the others and listened. Varin spoke - confident and unashamed - of ruin, conquest and obedience. But then... he said something more interesting.

Worth lies more in being able to think for yourself in battle.

Ace's gaze stayed forward, unreadable. And after Varin's words had settled, he too stepped forward before the silence could harden.

"He's right." His tone was flat like always. with no heat in them.

He shifted his weight carefully, ignoring the pull along his ribs, and looked toward Mercy, not exactly defiant, but not deferential either.

"Orders matter." He continued, voice dry, clipped. "But battles aren't clean. They never line up the way they do on a briefing slate. If you can't adapt when the situation changes, you're just following instructions into a grave."

His jaw tensed for a moment before continuing.

"And frankly, some orders are bantha shit anyway. We really worthy of being Sith if we can't think for ourselves? Tapani broke 'cause we're good at what we do. Not 'cause we followed orders blindly."

He stopped there, taking a half-step back into line, expression closed again, the pain still humming under his skin.

Mercy | Arris Windrun | Varin Mortifer | Neriah Calven | Ghruna​

 

[Mercy]

Arris Windrun Varin Mortifer Neriah Calven Ghruna Acier Moonbound

If they were worried they'd be struck down for their insolence they were spared.

For now anyway.

No lightning surged from her finger tips and neither did Mercy try and rip their heads off. Instead she listened, lazily lounging, but listening curiously regardless.

Then once both Varin and Acier had done their piece Mercy glanced from one to the other. Head tilting lightly.

"I thought I was in the presence of future Lords." Mercy drawled as her attention shifted towards Arris. "You told me these souls had potential. That they were hungry, ambitious, that they showed off the kind of qualities we wish to see in the future of the Sith." Attention returned towards the two acolytes that had just spoken.

"But all they do is complain... and whine." A little smirk there.

If Lysander von Ascania had been here he could have warned them. That Mercy was a relentless shit-stirrer who would try and jab them into a reaction that left themselves exposed.

But he wasn't, so they wouldn't know that was what Mercy was doing.

"Who told you you had to follow orders? It certainly wasn't me. Do as you please, lads. You think you know better than Windrun? Who gives a shit what her orders are? You are not slaves, nor servants. You are our acolytes and we are training you to be Lords." Amber eyes drifted towards Acier next.

"Just be prepared. If you fuck it up because you think you know better and it turns out you don't? You won't get a stern talking like your old Jedi teachers. That bean bag ain't shit compared to how she will rearrange your face, permanently." She pulled out her pipe, beginning to stuff it slowly, attention drifting away from them again.

"If you want to be Lords, stop acting like cattle."

 

[Arris Windrun]

Mercy Varin Mortifer Neriah Calven Ghruna Acier Moonbound

Arris holstered her weapon, then sauntered behind the others and stood in the back, arms crossed over her chest.

When Mercy's attention first shifted her way, the Talusian shrugged. "They're ready to be tested on a real enemy." She didn't really care that they complained, and didn't feel the need to be their advocates, either.

She saw what each was capable of and knew they were formidable in their own right. Even Neriah, though she doubted the fledgling nihilist would see it that way. Varin was headstrong, Acier was smart, Neriah was clinical, and Ghruna - she actually impressed Arris the most, just a moment ago, even if it was over a misunderstanding; there was just something about the young Maldrani that had 'future powerhouse' written all over her.

The cyborg's hands moved to her hips when the Titan singled her out again. She knew what Mercy was doing, setting her up like that. Very well. Best to lean in.

"You're too generous," Arris retorted. "Cattle at least serve a purpose when they die."

She looked to each of them. However, her attention lingered on Acier and Varin the longest.

 

[Ghruna]

Ghruna stood with the others, chest still aching beneath the leather where the beanbag had struck. The bruise pulsed slow and hot. She did not mind it. She was struggling to breathe and as the atmosphere changed, that she regretted.

She still didn't grasp every nuance of their language, but she could feel the atmosphere change. Varin seemed overly dramatic but he had a presence she envied. Acier chimed in with agreement, but delivered a more direct rebuke about their orders.

She pictured his face when she had emerged from the escape tunnel.

Mercy’s words washed over the room like cold water. She spoke of complaining and whining and cattle.

She wasn't sure if the last was a personal insult aimed at her.

Ghruna did not flinch, but her jaw tightened. She didn't like the idea that she might look like prey.

She lifted her head toward Mercy, horns angling slightly as she set her stance. No bow. No swagger.

She was really going to regret taking that bean bag to the sternum if this became a brawl. Ghruna had seen enough of her father's court. It was the only reference to leadership she had. He either brushed away insults with a raucous laugh or things would turn violent. She had no clue that mercy was intending to do.

Arris' added to the analogy with cattle and this time her tail gave an irritated flick.

"I am not cattle," she said, voice low.

Her eyes shifted to Arris for a moment, reading the cyborg’s posture the way she read fighters before a bout.

Ghruna looked back to Mercy and then let her gaze drift away. One hand flexed at her side. She wouldn't be disrespectful unless she was prepared to challenge for leadership. She was a long, long way from being ready.

"I can be tested," she said. "Give me a real enemy. I will show you I am not food."

Just a little annoyance at the cattle analogy crept into her tone again.

She had been sent here to learn sith ways and the become stronger. She had many half-brothers and sisters she had to rise above if she wanted to claim the throne one day.

 

[Varin Mortifer]

Cattle?

The thought made his eye twitch ever so slightly.

If I had it my way I would devour everything of theirs including their precious homes and their will. Leave them broken and scattered about to wander the galaxy, lost and aimless. Let me show them, boy.

Varin was silent to the room.

Silence.

His eye flicked to the side as Arris spoke, the grip around his mace tightening a bit more.

Cattle…She would see me, Claim me! as cattle?

His eye then shifted towards Ghruna as she spoke. His gaze slowly turned toward her, then back to Mercy.

He placed his hands under the base of his helm, pressing a button with a soft click and a hiss as the rebreather shut off. Slowly he lifted the helm off his head, his eye gazing towards her in a burning coal like orange tone. Clung loosely in his hand he tossed it to the side with a heavy clash with the floor. The glass from the visor that was damaged lay partially chipped from the impact.

“Cattle are not built for conquest.”

He looked around the room.

“They do not kill kings, emperors or lords.”

His hand fell back onto the handle of his weapon.

“We are not complaining. I am giving you the facts of what had happened and a suggestion on what could be done better. Future Lords should know how efficiency works. We all were efficient, but we could have been more so.”

His eye glared at her as the smoldering cloak flared, a slight increase in temperature.

“I’m aware of what happens with failure. I have seen how Lords make examples out of failures. It’ll take more than beanbags to get the point across to the prior Jedi.”

He tilted his head towards Arris.

“Test me, push me how you see fit. I will keep coming back. Try to break me, I've been through it, I have beaten it, I have endured. I will continue to do so. Punishment, suffering, pain and death do not frighten me. I do not succeed in my missions out of fear.”

His grip tightened once more on the handle, the leather wrapping creaking under his grip before it finally relaxed.

Mercy | Arris Windrun | Acier Moonbound | Ghruna | Neriah Calven​

 

[Arris Windrun]

Mercy | Varin Mortifer | Acier Moonbound | Ghruna | Neriah Calven

The cyborg kept her hands on her hips as Varin countered Mercy's words. There was no interjection from her.

Only a comment at the end.

"Okay..."

She let the single word hang in the air.

"Fire boy."

 

[Acier Moonbound]

Location: Moon of Sheva - Siegemother

Equipment:
Acolyte Robes| Lightsaber | Cybernetic Arm

Mercy's words didn't hit him like an insult so much as background noise. He'd heard worse, from people who meant it and from people who didn't. Being dismissed wasn't new. Neither was being wrong about.

He watched the exchange play out without shifting his stance. Ghruna rose to it immediately, pride forward, shoulders set. Varin followed, heat and certainty spilling out of him in equal measure, Ace clocked Varin's grip tighten around his mace. Arris's amusement threaded through it all, steering, nudging, seeing what would shake loose.

Ace didn't step in. Not because he thought himself above it, but because nothing here required it. He already knew what he could do. He didn't need to prove it out loud, and he didn't need to correct anyone's assumptions either. They'd learn soon enough.

So he listened. Listened to Mercy test for reaction. Listened to Varin declare himself. Listened to Ghruna ask to be seen. He kept his gaze forward, expression neutral, letting the ache along his ribs fade into something dull and manageable. If Mercy wanted his anger, it'd take more than words.

Ace was used to being underestimated. It wasn't a flaw. It was a condition of growing up where you learned to wait, to watch, and to move only when it mattered.

His dark gaze briefly drifted over to Neriah, who was characteristically quiet.

Mercy | Arris Windrun | Varin Mortifer | Ghruna | Neriah Calven​

 

[Neriah Calven]

Tag: Varin Mortifer Ghruna Acier Moonbound Arris Windrun Mercy

Silence. Quiet. That was Neriah in a nutshell. No bravado. No sense of confidence oozing from her. Hatred. Wrath. Not a single ounce of it. She had felt no need to speak up. She wasn't truly required for any of this. Why she had even been brought here was beyond her. The Acolyte was just a face in the crowd. A drop in a vast endless ocean. It was why she did not react to most of the words that any of the others were saying...Yet she raised an eyebrow as her gaze flickered over towards Ghruna.

Asking to be shown a real enemy? If that was the situation, you wouldn't be able to find one. A real enemy was one you found yourself. Not one that someone else told you to. It was why Neriah didn't mourn or resent the lives she had taken at Tepani. They were no-ones to her. Same as she was a no-one to the Galaxy. Why should she care about them? They were few she'd mourn. Even enemies.

She silently just pulled her out her journal, taking a simple mechanical pen and began writing. Not so much taking notes of what was being discussed...but more specifically emotions. Feelings. Vibes. Emotions were heated. Of course they were. That was nearly a given when Varin was in the room. But there was also Ghruna. Acier. Hatred seemed to be the most common emotion she had been sensing from people in recent days...and she was recording as much of that emotion into her book as she could. Ever silent.

​

 

[Ghruna]

Still wheezing, and dissapointed that she was clearly missing out on the fun, Ghruna took a few steps back.

Body language was a lot easier to understand in some respects than basic. She made space for whatever was about to happen.