OBJECTIVE: More for the Grill
LOCATION: Brosi
STAG:
Mercy
The wintry woman watched as Mercy tried to guide her bottle with an elegant brow raised. It wasn't so much that she'd been persuaded instantly by so few words, but moreso, that she was curious to see how far the other woman might try and press her luck. There was an invisible line with the Blackwall Empress where one would find her cold demeanor gave way to iron and stone—but Mercy had a habit of crisscrossing it like it was a game for younglings.
Hawkish eyes would hold that of the giantess while she took a single and deliberate sip of the alcoholic beverage before lowering the bottle again. Her expression betrayed nothing, but the flavor left a lot to be desired. It was like someone had decided to drop a battery into a glass of unsweetened lemonade with the faint overtone of grass clippings. Her nose twitched from the bitter carbonation.
It was truly, truly a foul experience.
"I know your blood makes me more…resilient? But…Even that has limitations."
How could she forget?
It was the reason she could hear Mercy in the back of her mind from half a galaxy away. It wasn't quite the same as the Force Bonds she'd held in the past, but it was close enough that it made her pause. It was too much. Too many worlds crashing in, too much madness. She had already given so much of her soul to other people…How much was really left? How much of Srina Talon existed?
Perhaps… that was the inevitable point. The Sepulchral would have loved to realize that she was less unique, less herself, and was slowly being ground down into the Sith Empress they wanted. The one who would wield the power she had refused Empyrean, if only because she knew her own limits. She had her own sense of right and wrong and trusted that above all. When she looked at a planet, bereft and swimming in ruin that she had caused…She knew she was right.
Srina could feel it when she bothered to look inward. A foreign warmth woven through her own life that stubbornly refused to disappear. It was not unpleasant. Merely…strange. An echo of the woman across the table carried beneath her own heartbeat. She mechanically lifted her fork to her lips and took another bite of meat, not certain of the beast, trying to curb her thoughts. They were wild and otherworldly. Just so close, so very close to slipping off the edge…
"Why do you think I would enter a fight with a hand tied behind my back against a stronger opponent.", she carried on, suddenly, with a ghostly smirk flickering across primrose lips.
"My battle-sister knows I am a strategist…"
"I don't like losing."
It was a ridiculous distinction to make over a few beers…But it was true. Srina had survived because she rarely accepted another's terms. Every duel, every campaign, every negotiation came with pre-determined knowledge that she had a statistically favorable outcome. If she surrendered first, everything that came afterward became reaction rather than intent.
"If I drink…"
"It will be because I wish to."
Another sip washed down the meat, and this time she couldn't help it when her perfect expression broke for three heartbeats and conveyed her absolute disgust.
"…But why would I?"
She glared at the Core Empress for a moment before her expression turned into something else. Not petulant because the Echani was never that…But something other. She could never relax for long in public, never do something that might jeopardize the nation she seemed destined to live and die for.
"It dulls my senses, and it tastes dreadful. If we got attacked…I would be an easy mark."
Her free hand reached out, and one of the fruit dishes snapped from the adjacent table and landed it her hand. Chilled and slightly sweet. The glass seemed unusual, and it took her a moment to realize that it was made out of molded sugar. Really, the Hordemother had not spared any expense. The talk of fighting in any capacity turned her mind back toward the future. War was coming.
It was always there…Just out of reach. Getting closer every day.
"The Mandalorian forces we encountered on Humbarine did not belong to the Mandalorian Empire. They are other and seemingly confused with history. They will come for me because I lead the Eleventh Empire and the Tenth laid waste to their world.", she murmured softly, though she was still nursing the disgusting beverage. "It is ironic…But they hold me responsible simply because my eyes are yellow."
Because she found the Dark Side to be the more efficient weapon.
If any of the Iron Covenant had been aware of true historical data, regardless of their toys and misconceptions—They would know that Srina had been with the CIS during that time. They seemed to know everything about her past but did not recall that the Exarch of the Confederacy of Independent Systems had not attacked Mandalore even when it was deserving. Instead, she had given the Enclave clemency. They rose to power the first time, with her support, and now this successor state had forgotten its roots because it was not convenient.
It was not prudent for propaganda to accept that their people had been given leave to flourish anew in
her garden. Her younger self had seen the potential in them without being led by Mandalore the Infernal. Here and now?
Darth Carnifex
…Had been right. This was, in part, a mess of her own making. It was one more war for the sake of her once-upon-a-time insipid need for gentleness. Fairness. Pity.
"The High Republic is also on the horizon. I feel…As if there is not enough of me to go around." 
