Dominion Tethered Hearts | CIS Dominion of Kiffu Hex

[Credius]

Attire: [X]
Post Count: 4
Tag: Vytal Noctura | Malok | Darth Elyria
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"My dear Nightmother, you are showering me with so much praise this evening," The Viceroy grinned as he continued to both set and follow the pace of his dance with the surprisingly nimble and elegant Nightmother. "One might mistake this for more than just simple mutual interest in the ways of the force and the use thereof or perhaps..." Turning his gaze to the only other truly powerful pair on the dancefloor in all aspects, Credius gave the Nightmother an almost gleeful smile accompanied by an almost playful wink. "Perhaps you simply seek to expand your power and knowledge and know that while without any doubt powerful, the Vicelord still needs to understand the true subtleties of the force."

Another turn, another lean and a few more steps, with Credius trying to make sure the tempo was to the nightmother's liking, his mind wandered off a bit when she mentioned the possibility of expandings one's limit of mortality, the postponement of the inevitable. This was ofcourse one of the most obvious points of alignment one could find within the Sith Brotherhood and the dark side of the force in a whole, with various techniques used to preserve either one's body or soul long beyond the reaches of the clutches of death. Credius was no different in this regard, though he had always looked sceptical on the idea of immortality and eternal life, he did reckon that a full mastery, a full control over the force would without a doubt be the path to these particular desires of those partaking within the darker arts of using the force in all its forms.

It was known that the Dathomiri Nightsisters had already found ways to prolong lifespans almost indefinitely and even were capable of ressurecting those of their own kin to a certain degree. From what he had seen himself, Credius knew it had something to do with the nightsisters' affinity with the more spiritual aspect of the force. He had already witnessed the strength the nightmother could draw upon through her spiritual connections, but he doubted that they'd teach him something like that, after all, no matter the offer, no matter how close, in the end, the witches and the sith weren't the same and they had an underlying animosity towards eachother similar to how all orders were aligned to one another. However, despite everything, even the tiniest sliver of expansive knowledge was worth more than a thousand star destroyers and planets in the viceroy's opinion.

"Should such a time come in which my mortality catches up with me," Credius gave the nightmother a rather sinister smile, the coldness in his eyes showing just how serious he had gotten. "I will no doubt be most keen on retaining my power for as long as the force would let me, by any means necessary I will seek to continuously expand my knowledge on the force, even if it must be at the hands of your order. Ofcourse, I do not expect it to be free of charge... after all, it would be bad business if I'd be the only one with an advantage in such an agreement."

 

[Darth Elyria]

Dance, or, Drink Poison

Tag: Malok
Attire: Black [And a little white? Blasphemy.]

“What transpires once you are charred?”

The attempt at humor would sweep over her head like a breeze. She didn’t bother questioning it overly so. If it was important that she add it to her knowledge base the Vicelord would explain. Instead, she let her form lean into his while raven locks looped around his wrist. It was nothing short of possessive. He was nothing—If not hers. That was the difference. He would always belong to her in some way or another. She did not belong to him. He—The he that he would eventually be would cut his own appendage off if he knew that his past-self had such wandering fingers.

Elyria only understood two things. Anger, and power.

When he stepped forward, dominant, she felt the balance of power shift and everything in her being railed against it. She didn’t step back further because that could be seen as a weakness. Her head rose while her eyes flashed with deep, dark light, that just barely slid along the lines of primordial madness. He was challenging her. Clearly. “Stand, back. Remember who I am—And remember that I can turn this peasant ritual into a bloody sacrifice if I so choose.”

Long dark hair swayed of its own accord and slowly fell away from him. There was nothing to bridge that gap any longer. It almost seemed saddened, but, it obeyed her unspoken commands. The pale perfection of her face formed a hard scowl. When she spoke next it was via telepathy. Seductive, like a wind brushing through his mind. <<Remember. Fail me and the white rabbit dies. You can ascend with or by trial with the pain of losing her.>>

Elyria was cruel.

He would feel a sense of something percolating within. A vision. A second sight that layered over reality. It didn’t matter to her that they were on a dance floor for some sort of political gain. No. The past form of her future consort seemed to have forgotten all the rules she had placed. His world without her. His world changed, barren, on fire from loss because he had failed to keep his prized possession safe. He hadn’t trained her well enough. Or, perhaps he simply hadn’t loved her enough. So much wickedness poured into his mind. Pure vitriol.

Her power pulled back from him like a veil lifting.

It was not hesitation. She saw him as he was—Not ready. Why wait for the rest? Because it would come to pass when the timeline permitted. He was calm. She was full of hellfire. Why wait?

WHY WAIT?

Because it was a betrayal of the one she was made for. The one she was waiting for.

“You are not he. Don’t you understand? You...Would never forgive me.”

Cryptic. Confusing, as always. Elyria pulled back and turned away. The nearest exit was calling as she had grown weary of enduring this façade the mortals called a celebration. She was doing her best to keep the vows she had made to Darth Metus. But with his words…An old ache returned. A feeling of being incomplete, when truly, she could be complete in herself. It was difficult. She was angry.

All she wanted to do was tear something apart.

 

[Vytal Noctura]

Attire: Black Queen
Location: Grand Hall, Kiffu
Tag: Credius | Open

"One might," Vytal replied calmly with a small smile that blossomed in its wake. "As one might ask the Nightmother to dance, but few possess the courage to do so." Did she scare them? Frighten them? Drive them to toss in the sleep terrified the shadows would come alive and devour them? How ridiculous. As though she had the time to haunt a random person for sport. Oh, but then they did not want to give her cause. Prudent, but did they believe her a delicate flower with a fragile ego? Had someone spread gossip of her beating those that misbehaved? Equally ridiculous.

Credius' ability to dance was remarkable. Not that a woman of Dathomir found her heart swept away by the music. Pleasing to the ear as it was, she preferred something more... primal. There was nothing sweet and gentle about life on Dathomir; that was a luxury many offworlders enjoyed. The Nightmother kept pace with him and every now and again sought to interject a change of pace. After all, she wouldn't want the man to become bored with an all too predictable dance.

There was even a time when the height of the curve of Vytal's lips grew; and with that little warning it was then the Witch that casually 'flung' her partner out only to draw him back in. Often a move the men did in these dances, Vytal was told. Much as she played along with their customs, the Nightmother was not one for offworld gender roles.

"It would depend, Lord Nargath," Vytal replied with good spirit, "on the reason why it should be prolonged. I only hope you are not as reckless as some in the pursuit." A little extra time for one soul the Mandragora could abide. Immortality, godhood, and the like tipped the balance too far; and any effort to manifest an 'army' of undying souls was out of the question. "Such spells can be costly. In many ways."

"I only hope we can speak of such things long before they become a pressing concern." To put a fine point on the matter, Vytal hoped the Dark Lord might desire to speak of the Force or mysticism while he had life in him. Much as the man dabbled as a politician, the Nightmother knew better. Had for some time, in fact. There'd been no reason to raise any alarms about it. The Mandragora kept an eye on the Lord and his world for anything too far outside the norm. A man should be allowed to live his life, however. So long as it did not affect the Confederacy or the Balance.

 

[Braxant Spirit]

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The night moved on at a pace which was bittersweet. There were those still enjoying themselves who wished the night would not end. It was a night of peace, fun, and strengthening a new relationship with the leadership of new worlds coming under the influence of the Confederacy of Independent Systems. Those who needed to be seen were, and for the first time in a long time a world was added without incident. Was this a new era of peace for the CIS, or simply the calm before the storm? Time would only tell.

ooc: As usual feel free to keep posting your stories! Thanks to everyone who helped make this dominion happen. Y'ALL ARE AWESOME!