Private Storm and Shadow

[Nyxira Valis]

Nyxira's smirk widened, her violet eyes gleaming with intrigue at Alina's words. The thought of those desperate enough to pay for power amused her — such people were the easiest to manipulate, the most eager to throw themselves into the fire without understanding what it would demand of them.

"Willing subjects," she mused, her voice smooth, edged with curiosity. "Interesting. But you're right — if they come freely, without struggle, then what we create won't be tested properly. Power that is bought without cost is meaningless."

She folded her arms, considering for a moment before tilting her head slightly toward Alina. "There are places in the galaxy where desperation breeds hunger — where those with nothing will grasp at the chance to rise, no matter the cost. Perhaps that is where we should start."

Nyxira turned, her dark cloak sweeping behind her as she paced toward the vault's entrance. "Tatooine, perhaps? Ryloth? Worlds where people scrape by in the dirt, clawing for scraps. Where the strong are greedy and take what they want, and the weak are left behind."

She paused, looking back at Alina with a sharp smirk. "Give them a choice — an opportunity. Those who reach for it will make excellent tests." A small, amused chuckle escaped her.

Her gaze lingered on Alina, anticipation flickering in her expression. "What do you say?"

Alina Tremiru
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[Alina Tremiru]

"The road to hell is paved with good intentions. Choice is always a good way to control." Alina followed, her gaze shifting back to the artifacts within the vault. They wouldn't remain here for much longer. Power was something that could never be contained, not with those who wanted it always so prevalent. She raised a hand to let the door close before she looked back to Nyxira.

"To Ryloth, then."

Nyxira Valis

 

[Nyxira Valis]

The sleek, black shuttle descended from the storm-darkened sky, cutting through the haze like a predator homing in on its prey. The world below was dust and desperation, bathed in the dim, oppressive glow of its tidally locked sun. A place of shifting sands and smog-choked cities, where slavers and syndicates carved out their power on the backs of the weak.

As the ramp lowered with a hiss of pressurized air, Darth Nythera stepped out first.

The heat hit her like a smothering wave, thick and dry, a stark contrast to the endless storms of her hidden world. The air carried the scent of spice and sweat, of industry and rot. She inhaled slowly, taking in the weight of the place, the faint undercurrent of misery woven into its very atmosphere.

Her violet eyes flickered as she surveyed the streets ahead, expression unreadable.

This world was pathetic. The people were pathetic. Twilight dancers, spice junkies, scavengers and slaves. Desperate fools who had long accepted their place beneath the boots of others.

Perfect.

Her dark cloak billowed slightly as she stepped forward onto the cracked stone surface beneath them, her boots pressing into the dust. The streets before her teemed with movement — Twil'leks with weary eyes, off-world merchants peddling stolen goods, spice runners whispering of hidden deals. It was a world balanced on the edge of survival, where power was the only real currency.

She smirked.

"A wretched world," Nyxira murmured, the words rolling off her tongue with quiet disdain. "And yet, so much potential." She turned slightly, glancing toward Alina as the other Sith stepped onto the streets beside her. This place would serve them well.

Alina Tremiru
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[Alina Tremiru]

"So much potential, and so, so many eyes. After the Mandalorian's rid the Jedi have helped as much as they can. As much as they can. I wonder how much resentment that's bred, though? The Jedi, so busy elsewhere while people here again suffer." It was part of the reason she took the world into consideration. The Jedi's light often cast some of the deepest shadows. Resentment built everywhere.

She stepped down the ramp, idly fixing up some makeup she'd long practiced. The pale skin she usually had unsettled those who saw her, after all. Not that it bothered her to unsettle others in truth. She didn't care about others. It just made it easier to walk around. So did the sunglasses she slipped on. "So, who do you think would be the best type to get?"

Nyxira Valis