Public The Crimson Concord [Sith Order, Friends, & Frenemies]

[Helix]

Helix felt his appreciation for the being before him grow somewhat. The mangled Sith possessed a mind as twisted, patient, and byzantine as his own. Nefaron, it seemed, planned in terms of decades, quite content to gently tug on the hearts of others and nudge the pieces into place with glacial slowness. Helix had found that when one planned at this pace, most sentient organisms failed to notice anything had changed at all.

This sort of timeless patience was something he rarely encountered in others. It was certainly an uncommon gem in Sith space. Sith often considered themselves masters of manipulation, but most were too constrained by ego, ambition, insanity, impatience, or just plain stupidity to truly shift the tides of fate. Nefaron was different. Helix might as well have been talking to a droid. The ghoul's cold, milky eyes stared at him with a reptilian appraisal. Good.

Helix was satisfied that he was not wasting his time. His hesitation and dismissive attitude seemed not to have deterred the creature one bit. Nefaron was not dissuaded by not getting his way immediately, seemingly confident that he could bring anyone around to his line of thinking eventually. An interesting creature, and Helix so rarely encountered those.

He nodded slowly as Nefaron elaborated on his contingency, his photoreceptors shifting their gaze downward in apparent thoughtfulness. Yet another thing they had in common. Both preferred to be the power behind the throne, rather than rule directly. It was wise. All the privileges of rulership, few of the dangers.

He'd have to watch this one. Here was a genuine threat to himself, should their relations sour, and he did not stick someone in that category often. Helix determined then to not allow that to happen. It was an easy decision to make, as he'd liked the cut of the man's gib the moment they'd met. That impression had only deepened now into something like professional respect.

"Smart." He said finally. "Very smart. Should this boy prove tractable, of course." He was unfamiliar with the apprentice in question, but Nefaron didn't seem the type to encourage (or fail to punish) intractability in his subordinates. Tick one more box on the list of common ground. "But no doubt you have considered this too. I would very much like to meet this boy, see what manner of clay you are moulding." A subtle, tacit sign of interest in continued association, in the future. Nefaron had more than earned that much.

Helix was not an expert on Sith history, but he'd done his due diligence after joining the nation formally, if not the Order. Forcing a legion of selfish, untrustworthy, treacherous, cowardly backstabbers to unite and think of something larger than themselves was easier said than done. Darth Nefaron certainly possessed long-term thinking, a key advantage over many of his peers. Should things go south, he would serve as an excellent port in the storm of infighting that would inevitably ensue.

He made a note to send out feelers and observe the puppet more closely. He vaguely recalled seeing a young humanoid with the Corpse Lord before, but had paid little mind. It was perhaps time to change that.

"I would be delighted." He responded to the invitation, giving every impression of earnestness. Helix was something of a beginner in the fine art of making life, and always interested in observing the achievements of others on that path. "Fortuitous indeed, to have run into someone cultured in this desert."

 

[Matteo Guo-Yian]

Lunaria Talon

Matteo was focused keenly on the moment.

It didn't matter.

All it took was a blink and suddenly the hallways shifted and warped. He squinted, because he truly didn't like that. Anything that was outside of his control was by definition suspect. So busy was he with it that Matteo didn't see the initial shape of Lunaria in the mirror. Only what it finally became once it crystallized.

"I don't like it." He said quietly as he watched with her, his hand squeezing hers a bit. "That version of you hasn't smiled in a long time. I am sorry, I am afraid I will have to ruin your fate, because I will make you smile all the time."

Matteo whispered softly in her ear.

But his eyes remained on the image. Was it true what she had said? Was this defined from the start? What did that mean for him? Would he not be there to make Lunaria smile often and plenty?

 

[Lunaria Talon]

Location: Sovereign Plaza
Tag: Matteo Guo-Yian

_________​

Her heart felt divided.​

​

Matteo even teasing and joking, made a point. Was there no happiness left in her future? Was Matteo not IN this future? Silver dollar eyes swept over him rather than her mirror image with questions about his absence that were entirely unfair. How could she inquire about things he hadn’t done yet? Had he finally realized that she was holding him back? Had he finally taken advantage of his mentor to find a place in the Imperial Court…A place, Lunaria didn’t think she’d ever be welcome.​

​

She bit her lip for a moment when something else occurred to her.​

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Maybe…Just maybe…Matteo wasn’t there because he couldn’t be. The squeeze to her hand was returned, but there was some new sense of urgency to it. Artemis, Luna, was trying not to let the whispers and worries infiltrate her common sense but…Her heart was sinking like a stone.​

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This wasn’t what she’d expected.​

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“That’ll be hard to do Tea-yo…If you’re not… if....”, the little Echani spoke, careful, dancing around the subject because it felt so wrong. ”If she doesn’t have you…I know why she doesn’t smile.”​

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A hard exhale.​

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“Her life must suck.”​

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The mirror version of herself stepped forward. Not out of the frame, but it was as if the world around them had become her world instead. The walls split open, and training droids surrounded the older version of herself with relative ease. Blades spun. Blasters raised. A dozen or more…But she moved through them like a song. Luna might have missed it if she blinked. It was clean, beautiful, and brutal. There was no hesitation. No mercy, no fear. Just clarity.​

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This woman didn’t fight to survive or communicate as their ancestors may have preferred. She was performing, destroying without effort. It was a game. Whatever she was…She was having fun, twisted, though it may have been. “Is that…really me?”, she whispered, not entirely to Matteo but stuck in a place of disbelief. That was the woman, the fighter, she was supposed to be. Uncompromising.​

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Barely…Human. It reminded her far too much of her mother.​

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Lunaria frowned. This wasn’t real. It was just…Tricks. Smoke and literal mirrors.​

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“Show us Matteo.”​

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As if the maze could take orders…But at the firmness of her tone? The syllables that were nowhere close to basic seeming clipped and inelegant their standpoint shifted again. Her mirror-self was erased and in place of the white wraith turning droids into scrap, the scene shifted, and they were suddenly outside. Somewhere tropical with running water and sweet flowers in brilliant colors…​

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But those colors faded the closer the eye turned toward the center, foliage dying, in sweeping waves while the Force was seemingly stripped from it without warning. A man sat at the center of it all with his back toward them. She knew him…Just by the line of his shoulders. By the tilt of his head and the way dark hair haphazardly fell. Despite what it was depicting, even, when the circle of death widened and reached beyond the plant life…She felt relieved.​

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He was still there. Not with her for whatever reason…But still there.​

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“So…I’m getting that we might be the product of our environment. It’s…It’s just a trick—Right?”​

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It couldn’t be binding.​

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That wasn’t what Sith doctrine taught…It taught them to break chains.​

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Not to accept them.​

 

[Darth Malum of House Marr]

Darth Malum, heir to the House of Marr, Lord of the Tsis'Kaar, Lord Inquisitor, King of Alvaria and Eliad, Governor of Formos, and Dark Councillor of the Sith Empire, stood silent, stood steadfast, stood vigilant, hidden away from sight both seen and unseen, stood bedecked in black steel plate, from armoured boots and greaves, to a dark kilt, leading up to a pitchblack chestplate, encrusted in rubies only visible to him, shimmering by the light of the streets surrounding, his arms furnished with pauldrons, rerebraces, couters, vambraces, all leading down to gauntlets.

His face, hidden away behind a mask. A mask that was the only memory of the face of one of the greatest Sith Lords that had walked their galaxy.

His hand palmed the beskar pommel at his side, a pommel that extended downwards to a sheathe, containing a blade that brimmed with darkness, and the red plasma that perhaps burned hotter than the flames that were contained in his heart. The flames whirling between two... not opposite, but parrallel modes of existence, heat and cold, life and death, and of course, light and dark.

The hearthfire that protected the Sith to some.

The wildfire that would burn it all to cinders to others.

He watched distantly, as his charge was surrounded by many a figure, it was not unlike his charge... despite the oddities that seemed to furrow her brow, she was, as ever...

...Entirely enchanting.

He had been tempted to intervene, when the new Mand'alor had approached her, it had only been the complete relaxation that exuded out from his Empress that had stayed his hand, from the distance he watched, he saw the familarity between them... a matter to look into for sure. But, for all the respect that he had for the older woman, to remain away for the moment.

The affection he held for her, might have forced his hand.

If it was not for the arrival of B- Darth Prazutis and Gerwald Lechner, despite whatever... animosity he held for either man, there was little doubt they would not let any harm fall upon Her Imperial Majesty.

He no longer held any purpose here.

As others arrived, he bowed his head in the direction of his sovereign, the only one of the Imperial couple he actually felt any loyalty to, even if the other was owed his fealty, "Your Imperial Majesty seems well taken care off... I will make certain the rest of the festivities are moving forth equally as so." He whispered through the Force, a voice directed for hearing by only the one it was directed to.

The scion of the Lord of Duty's duty was done.

He had little more purpose for being here, despite Dromund Kaas being one of the greatest of the Sith worlds... despite once, a long time ago, when he was but a babe, Dromund Kaas being the home of the Marrs...

...Ever since their return...

...Dromund Kaas had never felt like home.

He turned on his heel, the black cape billowing in his wake, as he escaped the scene, a deep melancholy struck him unexpectedly, as he weaved back and forth through the crowds, weaving through them as a shark glided across the waters, despite his words, he had no object, no direction... no duty.

The Force wavered at his step, echoing along the ground the every epicentre. Realisation brimming across his chest, as he snuck away into a particularly dark alleyway, his chest heavy, his eyes stinging, as he brought his hand to his mask in shaking desperation, the hiss erupting out from the locks, as he pulled his face from his face.

And he shuddered, as the sob broke across his form.

He was failing.

Every step of the way he was failing.

Elsie was gone, disappeared, leaving him alone.

Kara was far, executing her missions, making up for his failures.

Aureus... Caelia... he barely knew them, and everyday away from them, he knew less and less. Everyday, they knew their father less.

The tears pricked his eyes, as they swelled, and fell down his cheek, his back aligned by the wall, as the back of his head struck the building, as he felt his knees quaking.

He was surrounded by monsters, all his high minded ideals meaning little and little else every moment he drew breath, he had been humouring himself when he had said half the Order loved him, while the other half hated him. Who was there that loved the lonely heir of House Marr? The one who stood for principle, even as hypocrisy strung his very core. Representative of the rising and middling Sith, even as they looked upon him with scorn, as his own actions, as the plots of others, as what may as well have been mystery, turned each and every one of them against him.

As those truly great, those truly grand, those who sat upon their ivory towers, looked down upon him in pity, humouring him, as they knew they could crush him underfoot.

He was failing.

He was floundering.

He was so utterly alone.

He balled his hands into fists, as they struck the wall he found himself leant against, the pain, the physical pain, a poor companion, but at least a companion, a numbing agent to the pain that coursed his soul, as those that had buried themselves into his soul... were painfully silent.

The tears fell down his face, dripping down off his aristocratic features to glance upon the ground below.

"..." His breath came out heavy, as he found himself sliding along down the wall, the long, empty alleyway, barely filtering away the noise of the festivities around him. Curling his knees near him, gripping arms around them, a remainder of a childhood ritual, that which kept him safe...

...Kept him breathing, when it felt as if his lungs would fail him.

Regret, guilt, all that which so... all so haunted him, pooled in his stomach, reaching his heart, and coursing through his veins. Fiviune, Korriban, Alvaria, Archais, Csilla, Naboo, the worlds that so featured in his mind, spilling forth the moments of his greatest shames. His mind alight with visions of red eyes, always red eyes.

Settling upon green.

She was here... why was he not surprised?

He had avoided all those he had known thus far... but her...

...They could never truly hide from each other, even as the past months, had them scantly at speaking terms. Another regret, one which did not burn like a scorcher in his chest...

...But was like a stone that pulled his heart down.

She was looking for him, he could not tell how he knew, but always with her... always, he knew. He could stay here, likely, she would grow distracted eventually, even if he felt her anguish, held to the same fears he held about another confrontation. He could leave, go somewhere far on this world... or even simply off this world, avoid her, as they had both been doing to the other.

An act that would be for the best.

...The best for her.

He swallowed, his throat was particulary parched, as his arm wiped the tears from red eyes. Yet, there existed a third option, one which was as terrifying as it was... desired. Curiosity burned through him, why... why was she looking for him? A treasonous mind thought back to Bastion... the fireworks that had lit inside his mind.

Suppressed away, even as it became readily apparent how dry his lips were.

His hands were balled into fists, as the dark leather strained against his strength. When had he become such a coward?

When had he become so used to lying to himself?

He pulled himself up from the wall, once more, standing resolute, his breathing was shuddered, but with every breath, steadying. He gazed upon the face of his greatest ancestor... that face that defined him... that face that was him. His shield against all those that existed beyond...

...Did he need a shield with her?

He clipped the replica mask to his side, as the black cloak billowed in his wake, marching off, to be truthful to himself.

And find what he would find.

Whatever it was.

Srina Talon Quinn Varanin Caelus Vire // NIHIL
Mentioned: Darth Prazutis Gerwald Lechner Ansisa Elise Ahana-Gwyneira

 

[Wrathian Kell]

Sovereign Plaza
Tags: Eira Dyn

It was interesting. At the very least, perhaps a misunderstanding of how he spoke. Fear had been a broad term for him. Fear to anger, anger to hate, etcetera. A futile mantra. What they felt mattered as little as the reason for their feelings. Violence, acts of violence against one another. The culmination of those feelings. That. Mattered

“No. I would never ask you to spread lies about them. That would defeat the purpose of our little… exercise."

Then came the bite back from his claims of her. Yes she was right, everything was a weapon, even others. Others especially, which is what had made this little interaction between Wrathian and Eira so valuable for him. He didn’t intend to make an enemy and hoped that wasn’t the case, a rival perhaps yes, one in ideology and philosophy. Yet it was the next thing she said that gave him pause for the first time. Lesser.

His mouth curled at his lips, the tops of his teeth baring in a smile.

She would need a blood infusion from a Pureblood Emperor before Wrathian even saw her as an equal in standing. Barring their difference in mastery of the Force, or proficiency with a saber. Ideals mattered not, those didn’t make her lesser. It just made her wrong in his eyes. So if he was a lesser person because he loved. Then she wasn’t just wrong. Wrathian figured perhaps it was naivete, or possibly she’d been burned by what she expected love to be. That would give her defensiveness a clarity.

With how her tone had been changing, this conversation seemed to be coming to a close. She mentioned they weren’t gods because they didn’t demand worship or praise. “The force demands not, yet it is worshiped by some all the same.”

“Eira, do not mistake me as incapable of extreme violence, I earned my title as a Darth even if I don’t use it publicly. Death will not find me by your hand. I fear it would take most of this plaza to see that feat accomplished.” He paused for just a moment. “I will not apologize for any offense, yet I must state. Crossing you was never my intention, and that remains true. I tend to aim for the head of the creature, not the tongues that echo from it. So fret not, you’ll find no enemy in me unless you make one.”

He bowed to her, a courtesy for her time. “I hope you find a better dance partner. Farewell, and may our paths cross again. No matter the circumstances.”

With that he began on his way in the opposite direction. He’d gotten the answers he’d needed, even if he didn’t admit it. Her rising to his claims was the key take away from their interaction.

The Sith lords of this age, or at least a majority, weren't posturing as gods. No, most of these people might rather see a new ruler on the throne than risk losing their heads. Still. There was at least one individual turning that oh so ever problematic wheel, the brute in the plaza. A different problem, for a different day.

 

[Matteo Guo-Yian]

Lunaria Talon

No matter what he had been saying earlier.

When Luna commanded the mirror to show him, he got quiet, very quiet indeed. It almost felt like he was holding his breath as he watched the scene change. At first it was relief at the pretty flowers and atmosphere. Maybe he had found peace. Realized that all of this wasn't necessary, that there was something better out there.

But then he came into view. Then... everything begin to die around him.

Was that why he wasn't with Luna? Did he make the hard decision that he couldn't take right now? Did he finally realize in the future that he was a danger to her and that it would be better if he stayed far away from her?

He licked his lips, mouth dry suddenly.

"I... yeah." Nodding there slowly. "It's a trick. Just nonsense that is trying to play with our heads." Luna didn't know about his addiction to Force Drain. Srina might be suspecting, but he was careful about it.

"You got everything you wanted from this? If so, let's go and get those matching tattoos." Trying to distract her again with that crazy idea. An idea that was starting to sound more appealing by the moment.

 

[Veradun Sharr]

Eurydice​

Veradun was busy staring at the menu, looking for something that he wanted to eat, when the girl ordered herself a plain water. And she said please. The waiter stared at her for a moment, seemingly surprised by the gesture - glancing briefly at Veradun before turning and walking away to fetch their drinks.

Eurydice said she was sorry to hear about his sister, and hoped that she was well. The Nagai scoffed ever so slightly at the comments, glancing at the Seer girl briefly before turning his attention back to the menu. It was painfully obvious that Eurydice was out of her element here; Veradun couldn’t really blame her for being awkward. But the sooner she adjusted, the better for her.

She mentioned something further about hearing about the House of Marr though her voice trailed off and she left her sentence unfinished. Veradun was a bit curious to know what she might have said on the matter, but he didn’t press her about it.

For a few moments the silence hung between them, before she spoke up once more.

"You said that you...accepted our Lord's apprenticeship?"

Veradun could hear the unsaid question in her voice, a question that demanded to know why he agreed to serve such a monster. The young man grew still for a moment, his gaze locked on the menu…before he set it aside and looked her in the face.

“Yes, I did. And I had my immediate regrets in doing so. I…” he paused as his sharp gaze spied their waiter returning with the sprite and the water, setting both cups down for their respective consumer. They were both then asked if they were ready to order, and Veradun glanced once more at the menu before responding: “Ah, yes I’ll take the Kyra Perl.”

He would wait for Eurydice to make her order, or not, and for the waiter to leave before he continued his conversation.

“As I was saying…I was hoping that I would have a similar relationship to my Master that my sister did with her’s. One of mutual respect, where the Master didn’t use their apprentice as just another tool in their arsenal.” a sardonic smirk flashed across his pale face, before it faded away. “I learned very quickly that what my sister had with her Master…is very special and rare. And I was never going to have that with Darth Nefaron.”

Veradun took a deep drink of the sprite in front of him, relishing the acidic bite of it as it burned down his throat. The sharpness of it helped clear his senses and refocus his mind. “And unfortunately for me…I was, am, bound by a sense of honor. I swore an oath of service to our Lord, to be his apprentice, to obey his commands and adhere to his teachings. And though I hate him, I will honor my oath. Until the day comes that I no longer need him, that is.”

The young man sat back in his chair and crossed one leg over the other as he tilted his head at Eurydice, pale eyes narrowing slightly. He figured it was time to ask her some questions of his own, to learn who she was a little better. “What about you? Did you grow up on Ukatis?”

 

[Lunaria Talon]

Location: Sovereign Plaza
Tag: Matteo Guo-Yian

_________​

Once again…She didn’t answer right away.​

​

There were so many thoughts rolling around in her mind that Matteo could probably see steam coming from her ears. See the gears turning. The nightmares spawning. She stayed where she was, still watching, not because he was showing her anything new about her friend…But because it felt like it should be watched. Like, if she looked away, it would change. Disappear.​

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Or follow them.​

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Matteo’s voice pulled her halfway back, but she heard what wasn’t being said more clearly than what was. Luna didn’t understand what the maze had shown them about the much taller man at her side. How could she? His secrets were his own…But something about it seemed to have cut.​

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Deep.​

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And now he was trying to joke again, to be the friend she leaned on, the one who always had the right thing to say. The one who made it easy to ignore everything ugly that was growing in the corners of her being. After a long moment, she exhaled, shoulders rising and falling. “Yeah…”​

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“It’s messing with us.”​

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But the words felt like someone else’s voice in her mouth. Lunaria took a step back, toward the archway that allowed entry, but there was nothing but a solid wall. No exit. Silver eyes narrowed, and she reached out with her free hand to touch the cold stone. It hummed beneath her fingertips as if it were a living thing. Breathing them in, breathing them out. Her head tilted back to follow the seam where the door should have been, and her hand flexed slightly in Matteo’s grasp. It was instinct.​

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To not be caged. ​

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Instead, she made a small noise of disappointment.​

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“Of course it doesn’t want us to leave yet.”​

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She looked at Matteo again in the dim lighting, and her features slowly softened. This time…She really looked at him. His posture, his eyes, the way he carried himself. He didn’t seem particularly rattled, but she could feel that he was through with the Labyrinth. No matter what insight or mystrery it held. Slowly, she turned into him and pressed her face against his shoulder. “Why…Did it show us that about you?”​

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“Mine…I suppose it made sense…If that’s the warrior I’m supposed to be…But you…”​

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All life around him…All life, had died.​

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“I think the way out…Might be to go through.”​

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Which meant more visions.​

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More secrets.​

 

[Matteo Guo-Yian]

Lunaria Talon

There was a snarl painted across his lips when he turned around and realized the Labyrinth wasn't letting them go.

He managed to will himself back to steadiness before he could crush Luna's hand in fury.

She asked the question and Matteo glanced to her. Then turned back to the image of him in the mirror. His mirror image slowly rose up, turning towards them. His eyes were burning bright, joyful, but there was a black sea behind it. Depth. Not born from wisdom, but from endless hunger that had to be filled no matter what.

"I don't know." Matteo said quietly as he watched his shadow figure raise his hand and suddenly some struggling figure flew into it. Fingers curling around their throat and draining them into a husk.

"I am not sure. Maybe it's a warning." Even quieter. "But these sort of Sith artifacts never have your best interests at heart. They always try to screw with you, try to make you doubt yourself and those around you." His arm went around Luna's shoulders and he hugged her in return when she leaned into him.

"It might be trying to divide us, weaken us, so we are softer targets for our rivals at the Academy."

 

[Darth Nefaron]

"That can be arranged. But not this day, somewhere... safer. Perhaps you might make the journey to my little home on Anoat?"

A formal invitation. One more to bring into the fold.

Nefaron was forming quite the cabal. Soon enough, his tendrils would reach every corner of the Sith Empire.

"The creatures I have with me today are only a small selection of what brews within the darkness of my fortress. They are only the beginning."

LOCATION: ARCANE COURT
TAG: Helix
​

Getting Nefaron’s beasts caged and displayed certainly must have been quite the challenge, but in the end, they were caged for all those interested to see. Carefully isolated from the ongoing rituals and alchemical discussions were great ray shielded cages, one containing a swarm of horrid winged beasts feasting on meat of dubious origin. In contrast, the other contained two examples of the great Anoatian Devourers; those found in their natural state remained unarmored and somewhat docile, but that was only because they could not dig through the durasteel floor of their cell to escape beneath the surface.

“I can only take credit for the creation of one of these creatures; the larger beasts were found during ongoing excavations beneath my fortress. I lost countless hunters attempting to take one of the creatures alive, but now the bulk of the species is in my service.”

Nefaron approached the cage containing the devourers, and the two beasts seemed to cower, sinking down to avoid the Dark Lord’s gaze.

“Even these beasts can be taught to fear their betters. Make no mistake, they have the strength to rip apart armored vehicles and eviscerate entire squads when properly goaded.”

Nefaron shifted away from the great beasts to the winged creatures, watching as they nested in darkness. This was his, but the first of his spawn, creatures of his fell power found nowhere else in the galaxy. While he did admit he found them a bit dull, considering their inability to be broken like all other living things, they have proven to be effective beasts of war in the service of his Legion. They were so very eager to serve him, for he could send them to war or have them act as perfect little spies, nesting in the dark places of worlds next to be targeted by the forces of darkness.

"I will admit what I have on offer here is but the tip of the proverbial iceberg. I have found far more success with humanoid gene modification. Call it lazy, but I find greater joy in taking a being and changing them to fit my needs than creating something truly new. Nevertheless, I find myself surprised by what fresh horrors are birthed from the depths of my laboratory."

Once more, Nefaron turned to Helix and again brought up their current Lord and his plans for the coming months.

"Admire the man as you will, Malum's careful scalpel will only take us so far. The operation on Ukatis was a great success, but we will not always have the luxury of relying on local collaborators to carry out our will. Even if we were to raise a large professional force to match our rivals, it would only plunge us into endless conflict with no winner. We must become like demons from an ancient time, we must unleash terror and fear upon the galaxy like never before seen. Millions must die, and it is this point I fear Lord Malum will take issue with."

Of course, Nefaron did not concern himself with the artificial limitations placed on him by the confines of the Tsis'Kaar. He would burn the world, unleash horrid weapons, and use every dirty trick within his arsenal to achieve dominance. Malum had not been pleased by the use of his toxin on Ukatis, but in the end, a victory had been achieved, and the issue was not pressed. What would his reaction be if a weapon of sufficient power were used on a civilian populace twice the size? What if Nefaron were to unleash his toxin on an entire world? That may be the breaking point. To do such a thing, he will need to have sufficient cache within the Tsis'Kaar and close allies to support him.

Helix would make for a fine ally indeed.

"Might I count on your support in future operations? Far more... critical than a simple slave raid. Operations that will see the galaxy change forever."​

 

[Soah Ty’Jyn]

Interacting with: Kasir Dorran

​

Soah's claws flexed as Kasir spoke of Tund then of Kesh. The calm in his voice was chilling, but she didn't flinch, she listened.

"I would like to join you," she said finally in that quiet but almost terse way of hers. It wasn't performative or a bid for praise. Truth just felt better when it came out quiet.

Hyperspace was still an issue but Soah had been getting better at controlling her shifting, at using meditation or focusing on her lightsaber work to keep the unnaturalness of the sensation at bay. So if it meant trailing in Kasir's wake, learning from the ripple of his precision, then the price was tolerable. He didn't leave behind mess.

He completed.

She could become that one day. She would.

But when he spoke of the Academy, her expression soured.

"The Academy on Korriban?" she muttered flatly, the grimace flashing across her face unbidden, tail flicking sharply again. Too much of a tell. Her hazel eyes with those vertical pupils of hers cut towards him.

"It smells like desperation, blood, and bad ideas."

But she didn't say no.

If Kasir thought it held value, she would endure it.

"Is this another way for me to make sure Nubs doesn't end up at the pointed end of a saber?" she asked dryly, but not mocking curious if that was where Naamino Zuukamano would be as well. The Sith held many Acadamies, so what would make Korriban different.

But then the Court changed.

They stepped into the next chamber and something beneath her skin snapped awake.

The ritual circle ahead seemed to pulse awake. It was cut deep into the basalt and the black stone scorched and splintered. But what was most interesting and what stirred the living tattoos upon her dusky flesh at the center was inside the vessel. There, an inky dark liquid swirled and recoiled in slow, sentient coils, drinking the shadow around it like it was starving.

Soah's felt her breath hitch and her nostrils flare.

Her tattoos stirred and not so subtlly this time. The ink that lived beneath her skin writhed in recognition, giving a serpentine shudder that traced her along spine, licked over her shoulders, and spiraled around her forearms. It wasn't in pain nor in fear, but in recognition.

Kinship.

She stepped forward drawn like a moth to a flame, the figures flanking the vessel fading into the background noise as the ink in the vessel reached toward her, mirroring the motion of the markings on her body.

And suddenly she knew.

Not in words, but in knowing.

The thing that had bound itself to her in the jungles of Felacat had not been a curse, not just a trick of the Dark. It was alive. A creature of shadow and intent, born in ancient places where the Force twisted into hunger. It fed on emotion, her emotion and those around her. Learning, adapting, bonding as it grew in strength.

The only question was, what would it become once it became strong enough? She would need to learn.

The shadows of her ink curled lovingly down her arms, and the vessel answered in kind, stretching forward a tendril, not to strike, but to mirror the pool of sentient ink there.

The Felacatian Acolyte tilted her head back toward Kasir, her voice rough but certain. She'll travel with Kasir. Learn more from him. However, she could not deny his words on resources that could be at her fingertips to learn more about the sentient ink.

"I'll go to Korriban."

Her eyes returned to the ink.

"I want to know what it can become."

 

[Lirka Ka]

The hunter's gaze, the predator's gait. Both things were common when dealing with the Once-Sephi, all things were viewed under the careful purview of the collision of wills. Minds that plotted and schemed in the shadows, exerting plans over another - perhaps it was not a fair assessment of Elane II of Kuat considering the two had only just met. But Lirka's dabblings had been all but entirely with Sith, and that certain lead to certain...expectations.

She let the old woman speak now, carefully listening to each word from her withered lips. Such a curious sort the bankers of the Galaxy were, perhaps even the truest of scoundrels well beyond even the darkest Lords of the Sith.

"Then, let you and your lot enjoying the ever enduring value of Lirka Ka."

Her helmet hid all, but it didn't take a genius to guess she was grinning beneath it. Whatever could fuel her boundless ego was enough to keep the Imperator quite content. Especially considering the fledgling nature of her position.

"Volatile killers serve no one, this is true. A wolf's marauding raiders, the Emperor's bludgeoning fist....woefully unproductive in the grand scheme of it all."

Of course, Lirka kept her lips sealed on just what the "grand scheme" was. The Primordial Darkness beckoned, she would answer the call with as many of the Worthy she could muster up from the endless muck and mire the Sith have created in their supposed society.

"Then there is us, the storm of the new age. The prosperous expansion, the push into the unknown and its great bounty. That shall build as much as we destroy, to pave way for a new, better, Galaxy."

Lirka had certainly been practicing her propaganda.

Three things...it was not an unreasonable trio. Nor an infeasible one, it was the calculus of business. Lirka often needed funs, her "lifestyle" did not come cheap after all, and she'd need to flash some more shiny credits to keep some of the disparate forces in the Galaxy in line. Nothing like a paycheck to secure the weapons of scum.

"It would be only the fool that would disgrace your generosity to the Legion, my dear Banker. I accept, my flotilla lingers in the space around Ryoone - send your people, vessels to ferry about your will. We will be departing again soon, the Shattermarch can not dawdle for long. With the Banking Clan's vessels behind our fleet, you will be able to get infrastructure on the ground before the blasters have even cooled."

Yes...Lirka Ka liked being an Imperator very much. So many doors opened, so many steps taken down the path in their wake.

 

[Lysander von Ascania]

Madrona A’Mia | Varin Mortifer

​

This wasn't the first time his professor had rolled her eyes at him; Lysander also knew it wouldn't be the last. Every single time, he found himself wishing they'd just get stuck up there, like being trapped in hyperspace. And when she corrected him about the Sith's proper title, a slow exhale was drawn between his slightly parted mouth. He couldn't help but mutter under his breath, "Your presence is like a toxic spore, tormenting everyone around you." It slipped out without a second thought.

Senses far beyond warped, the colors around him were all bleeding into each other; different shapes morphed and shattered like corrupted kyber crystals. The finger that jabbed him wasn't just one; just before contact, it appeared to unravel, multiple tendrils reaching out in dozens of directions at once. The psychedelic ripples never stopped dancing at the edges of the acolyte's vision. Somehow, even in this current state, he remained tethered for the most part.. at least until the name Sibylla Abrantes snapped him back.

One brow lifted thoughtfully; it was like a giant question mark etched onto his face, and would stay there as calculations took place. Finally, he conceded. “She’s actually quite extraordinary, you know. The last time she said ‘hi,’ I totally forgot where I was. Pretty sure that counts as a Jedi mind trick. Besides, I already gave her my heart back on Ukatis, and she gave me crisis in return. That's how I know she's the one.”

When A'Mia deposited the flower, he couldn't help but recoil, mainly out of disgust. "Normal Neti behavior is.. peculiar," he murmured, the word feeling foreign on the tongue. Leaning in closer, he watched as the bark of her arm would part like flesh. “Looks like you do actually care though.. in a bark and sap kind of way." he added quietly.

As she waxed poetic about the art of subtle murder, Lysander straightened, his mind racing, prepared to volley a monologue. But as he saw the Sithspawn while pressing deeper into this little adventure, all his best words suddenly abandoned him. His eyes widened with wonder, much like a child discovering some kind of creature for the first time. "Ooh. Are they real? Can I name one? Are they sentient? Perhaps more than you, tree-witch?"

The spot where she’d elbowed him earlier wasn’t painful; it was actually something far more annoying, like an itch that wouldn't go away. But now he was keeping score. One-one. Not out of cruelty, but more lighthearted, like a duelist testing defenses with Makashi, he delivered another sharp elbow. A smug smile was glued to his face.

Wasting no time and offering barely a second to respond, he pressed on. "So, what kind of information are they gathering? And can you please stop talking like a holotext for five minutes? Spare me the educational lecture. Just try to act cool, A'Mia!”

 

[Helix]

Helix followed the ghoul out of the square and into the freak show that was the Arcane Court. He folded his hands behind his back, gazing up at the slobbering horrors barely held back by Darth Nefaron 's energy cages.

"Oh, it's beautiful." He said, his tone tinged with genuine admiration. He observed the flying, rodentesque things tearing into their meal. Pure, animal savagery. There was something to be said for servants with no concerns but their next meal. He'd made some himself, of course, but they didn't quite have this sort of... artistry to them.

The great, burrowing creatures had a reek that he could smell through the ray shields. He listened as Nefaron explained their origins, and watched as they cowered away from their withered master.

"Anoat. Hmm. I would be delighted. As you may have guessed, I don't get to talk shop as often as I would like. It's pleasing to meet another with taste for the finer things in the galaxy."

"Horrors have their uses. An improvement on nature's crude workmanship is as valid a work as any. Besides, it is sometimes... instructive to remind the intransigent and the churlish of their place. If something exists without use, then it is only sensible to change that."

He turned back to watch the flying beasts at their dinner for a moment, seemingly quietly enraptured at the spilling of blood. He didn't at first react, when Nefaron told him of his concerns about Malum's tolerance for carnage. He responded after so long a period that his companion could be forgiven for believing that he would not respond at all.

"Yes, that is a point of some contention in the Tsis'kaar, as I'm certain you gathered at the last meeting. Ultimately, the job of the Tsis'kaar is to control information. Incoming or outgoing. Spying and espionage and assassination are all well and good, but propaganda is all too readily left by the wayside. What better propaganda exists than fear?"

"Imagine being told that failure to comply would result in being thrown in a cage with the likes of these." A casual wave to the misshapen monsters in front of them. "It's not enough to simply murder. A death works best when it serves as a message. There is a time for subtlety and nuance, and a time to bathe a city in chemical fog to make a point."

Helix tore his gaze away from the feasting chiropterans and swiveled it to Nefaron. "In that, we are agreed. The Kainate will not pull punches, as I believe the common phrase goes. Nor will the Emperor's Eternalists. Nor will any of the new self-proclaimed warlords and empires that pop up like flowers every few weeks now. At the end of the day, authority is built on violence, and not hypothetical violence, either. No throne ever existed that wasn't built on a foundation of bones. I do wonder if Malum is capable of it. I am content to at least allow him to try, for now."

"His window is closing, however. The Alliance is as weak and as porous as an overripe fruit, and whoever takes their place as ruler of the Core is not likely to treat the Order with childrens' gloves, as they have done."

He thought for a moment, then gave his answer to that last question.

"You may." He said finally. "I believe we find ourselves in agreement. In truth, it is nothing that I have not already been doing. The dirty, ugly deeds required to keep things ticking along as they should. It's past time the Sith put the fear of themselves back into the galaxy." Helix was, at his core, perhaps the most utterly self-serving and egoistic creature alive. He didn't care one whit about the Order as an organization or an ethos, for all his public pretensions of serving the greater good of Sith space. Only the people within it had value, and only a few of those. He'd play the Lord of Fear's games, for now. They had much in common, after all. Saw the universe in much the same way. Helix had a great deal to gain by joining him in his depredations upon the helpless and the fearful of the galaxy. Maybe he was one of those individuals of value. Time would tell.

In his experience, such a natural kinship only ended in two ways. Glory, or one of them winding up dead. He was prepared to take his chances.

 

[Mercy]

Darth Carnifex

"You're quite right, I don't give much of a chit about what others are doing." A lazy shrug there. "I have worked with the Maw, the Sun, I have worked with the Sith. For myself too."

Mercy didn't mention the fact she had abandoned the Sith Academy at a young age years ago in a different Sith Empire. Formalized organizations that demanded obedience were never Mercy's way of doing things. She should have realized that from the start. You don't run away from court, abandon your position as a Princess and then thrive in a rigid Academy.

She smirked.

"No, I haven't worked with them yet." And truthfully she doubted she ever would. Ashin Cardé Varanin might have offered her assistance, but she was skeptical it would amount to anything.

Last thing she wanted was to do some work for them and then have the check bounce.

She glanced away from the Dark Lord of the Sith and glanced to the festivities around them. "I have seen stranger things, Lord. I have seen flesh-eating trees devour worlds. I have seen creatures from the Netherworld ripping their way into this reality and stealing bodies that don't belong to them. I have been on a train that ran through hell and came back on the other side no worse for wear." Attention shifted back to Kaine as she tore off another chunk of meat from the nuna leg.

"This... is just sentient rituals, different order, different names, different intentions. But in the long run, the same shit, if that makes sense."

 

[Kasir Dorran]

Soah Ty’Jyn
​

He listened like a blade sharpened by silence, shaped by ritual, detachment meant to be survival, not choice, guiding him only when purpose called. And here was Soah, pulling at the frayed edges of his mind. There was hunger in his chest, a dark seed that had grown into a black heart, so often twisting his purpose. Thus, he found himself caught between the instinct to possess and a primal urge to protect. Sending her away to the Academy on Korriban was a calculated push, to create distance.

Or perhaps, it was simply another lie he told himself, to mask the chaos within.

The metallic whispers riding the air clawed at him relentlessly. It smelled like warmth, becoming irresistible, but not enough to shatter his control.

Not yet.

Two fingers grazed the edge of his cloak. “If it is Naamino you wish to protect, then you will do so by becoming harder to kill,” he murmured, the coldness of his tone like the soil of a graveyard, untouched by sun.

His eyes narrowed slightly as Felacatian stepped forward, lured by the vessel. He saw the ink as recognizing its kin, a reflection of something ancient. A cold trickle slithered through his undead senses, the ink’s sentience casting unwelcome shadows across his disturbed thoughts. The mirroring of these markings no longer surprised him, for he had long suspected this bond was more than mere decoration, something alive.

He blinked, not slow, not fast, his aura colder now. “Emotion fed that.. creature. Discipline is how you will starve it.”

The thought of this drinking her memory, destroying her identity, becoming an offering, did not settle well with him.

Kasir tilted his head. "We will take the first step now, towards learning control where it first moved for you. In this chamber."

Since his memory served, the Darkseeker had loathed the company of the many, always lurking in their noise and movements alike. This chamber suited him, as did the acolyte at his side, and he would not need permission to linger, for he was rarely a guest, even in unfamiliar territory.

Sentient attention brushed against them, like wisps of smoke; their glances meant naught to him

Gaze met flesh, searching. “It feeds on what you reveal. In the waltz.. you cannot lie.”

Gliding to the center, her name did not pass through his lips, no call, no summon, no hint of tenderness. His head bowed low enough to cast his pale visage in shadow, though the glint of elongated fangs remained visible. With a twist of the wrist and the lift of his left boot, he signaled readiness to lead her through the test

A test that would keep him from losing her.

 

[Quinn Varanin]

//: Caelus Vire // NIHIL //:
//: The Vault //:
//: Attire //:

Quinn nodded as he mentioned her attendance on Bastion. That night, she had watched the galaxy shift once again, welcoming a new power into the game. As elegant as the gala had been, only one moment remained truly vivid in her mind: the face she saw.

A ghost. One that has haunted her for years.

Seeing the woman in the flesh had unearthed feelings the Princess had buried long ago and never dealt with.

Thankfully, Darth Malum of House Marr had been there to distract her. Losing control wasn't something Quinn could afford. Not publicly. Not ever. She was Quinn Varanin, poised, composed, beautiful. Malum had known that. And that night, he had been there for her.

"It was a beautiful evening," she said smiling softly. "Always a once-in-a-lifetime experience to watch a nation announce itself to the galaxy."

Quinn's fingers brushed a strand of ashen hair from her cheek. She was still getting used to its length, longer than she had worn it in years.

Her eyes followed the senator's attention. They were in the middle of a tech exhibit. Quinn had never been particularly drawn to technology. Still, her thoughts had been shifting, especially with a particular trooper's enigmatic employer occupying her mind more often.

And then, there was CT-312 .

The scout lingered in her thoughts like an echo, and Quinn found herself wondering what the trooper might like.

The senator's compliment arrived right on cue. She appreciated that it hadn't been the first thing out of his mouth. The man had done his research; he knew when to flatter. A soft blush appeared on Quinn's porcelain skin, the rose-pink hue highlighting the faint freckles scattered across her cheeks and nose.

A quiet laugh escaped the Echani's lips as she leaned in slightly, a hand resting absentmindedly at her chest.

"I'm surprised something like my beauty made it into your reports," she said. The thought was flattering, but unsettling. If her appearance was noted, what else had they documented?

Quinn reminded herself to tread carefully. She was still the Sith Princess, close to the ruling family. It wouldn't be the first time she had to be this careful and it won't be her last. Snakes and wolves were at every corner and behind the sweetest smiles.

"Oh, I haven't had much time to look yet," she added. "I have a few companions who would absolutely adore a place like this. I'm hoping to find something special, maybe an early Life Day gift."

He didn't need to know the Princess was considering building a military of her own, one foot already outside the Empire's borders.

Another nervous brush of her hair—she knew she needed to break that habit.

"You're well-versed in dealing with Sith," she teased, voice playful as she leaned in a little closer. "Do you get much practice?"

Her eyes studied him carefully, searching for the subtlest shift in posture or expression. As an Echani, body language was her native tongue. And the Diarchy, this man's mysterious government, was still largely unknown to her.

Before she could say more, something familiar pulled at the edge of her awareness. A connection she hadn't felt in some time.

He was nearby, but chose not to approach. Her teeth caught her lower lip for a brief second before Quinn turned her attention back to the senator.

"How are things in the Diarchy?" she asked, her tone gentler now. "I've been meaning to reach out for a visit. I travel to Eshan often—it would be lovely to get to know your corner of the galaxy better."

Her smile softened, her voice almost lyrical.

"Do you think I could convince you to show me around, Senator?"

 

[Lunaria Talon]

Location: Arcane Court (Maze)
Tag: Matteo Guo-Yian

_________​

​

She kept close.​

​

Silvery orbs fell shut while her face pressed into the soft material of his shirt. He pulled her closer, and the small Echani didn't resist, nor flinch, when his voice seemed to grow thin and tired at the edges. Even with her eyes closed, she could picture the altered form of her friend, the one that had appeared in such a joyful place. When she dared look over Matteo's shoulder again…​

​

It was just in time to see his shadow-self drain the life out of someone.​

​

There was something incorrect about the scene, just like, there had been something wrong about the scene with the older version of herself. She'd been battle-ready…But it didn't feel right. They were both missing something. Her gaze remained on his alternate self. He had discarded the figure he'd turned into a husk and was now simply staring at them. She blinked. Was he staring at her?​

​

The imitation of Matteo didn't leer, mock, or smile. It just…waited. Sated, for now. But his eyes were bright and hungry all the same. Asking…Asking for what? Her arms tightened around her Matteo when his hand extended toward them. As dark as this was, as different, as this Matteo was…It still felt wrong to deny him. Her lips pressed then. "…He's lonely..."​

​

"I don't think it's trying to divide us.", she murmured, muffled, because she was speaking into his shoulder. "I know that it could be a trap or someone from school messing with us…But I think…"​

​

"I think it's trying to show us what we could be…If we stop choosing."​

​

If they stopped making their own choices, making their own way, and adhered to the expectations of those around them, versus their own instincts. She'd been warned so many times not to make "friends" at the Academy because it was a place designed to break them. To reforge them into beings that longed for nothing, but the sweet promise of power, the taste of victory. But…Here she was. With her friend.​

​

Her right hand left Matteo's back and instead reached toward his shadow-self in the distance. She didn't feel afraid. Not exactly. But there was a weight behind her voice now—The quiet pull of someone walking through a memory she hadn't made yet. She could still feel the echo of her own reflection burning behind her eyes. The older version of herself, crowned, and terrible…She looked just like her mother. "Maybe that's what makes it a maze."​

​

"Not the walls…Not the choices…Just the questions."​

​

Her extended fingers made contact with what could have been his ghost and her shoulder seemed to relax. She accepted all of him. Darkness and light…Darker and darker. It didn't matter.​

​

"Will you stop choosing…When things get hard?"​

​

Correction. Would he stop choosing her when things got difficult? Would he pull away and take a new path if he didn't like what she became? Lunaria had more questions than answers…But the electric jolt she felt when she touched his ghost was strangely settling. In truth…She never thought she had any choice at all. She was the estranged daughter of an Emperor whom few loved, all feared, and was the father she could never know. Luna had to learn how to protect herself for when the truth came out. Everyone around her would be in danger. Even Matteo.​

​

Perhaps, especially, Matteo.​

​

Would he stay then?​

 

[Matteo Guo-Yian]

Lunaria Talon

Hungry for something he couldn't have.

Because this version of him didn't have Lunaria by his side. Maybe by his own choice, to protect her, or as Luna speculated... because this version had stopped picking her and began to choose power for power's sake. Had there been something in the way Lunaria's shadow-clone looked at him? The same sort of desire to be touched the way Luna was touching his other self?

Matteo didn't know.

Because Matteo hadn't been looking at the mirror too closely at that time. His attention had been elsewhere, focused on his Lunaria. Maybe there was a truth there that he did not want to face.

That while Lunaria was ready and able to accept him - dark and light, Matteo couldn't accept himself. And if he couldn't accept his own darker urges fully the next question was if he would be able to accept Luna's. He finally reached out himself.

"Hard or not. I won't ever stop choosing what I believe in. And I believe in you... Lunaria." Matteo murmured as his fingers trailed along her arm, her wrist, to her hand... until they both were touching the shadowy shape of his darker urges. That seemed to please the figure. It smiled... and then disappeared.

He would never use her name lightly, not while they were in public, but here in this maze they were as isolated as could be. Just the two of them and figments of their darker selves.

Speaking of- it wasn't done, not yet.

A new image appeared... and now it was the two of them.

Arms locked together, moving along side each other. It was a dance first, a gala, and they were the centerfold prize. Then it shifted to a different dance, a battle. The two of them locked into a fight with a mass of Jedi. Just the two of them, but together they destroyed any obstacle in their path. In both scenes it was a dance and in both scenes they were perfectly synced to one another.

"Perhaps it is tempting us..." Matteo said, finally, softly. "Promising us that we can have our pie and eat it too. Be hard, cold, dark... but still have each other."

Was that true?

 

[Soah Ty’Jyn]

Interacting with: Kasir Dorran

​

Soah watched Kasir move with deliberate precision and predator's grace. The sentient ink behind her and the one against her skin pulsed once and slithered before settling as if it could tell her attention had shifted.

The corner of Soah's mouth gave a slight purse. It wasn't quite a smirk, but more like the ghost of one. Subtle enough Kasir might've caught the scent of amusement before he saw it. He wasn't the only one who could mask hunger. But hers… hers was the kind that studied. Admired.

One day, she would be that.

For now, the Felacatian didn't add any additional commentary about Naamino. That discussion on Nubs was done. Besides, Kasir had confirmed that she would need discipline to starve the tattoo-like creature on her skin. A curious logic, but it fit.

So the waltz was a way to learn control? To be honest, Soah still didn't understand it, but if Kasir put that much emphasis on it while he was hungry, then she would take his word on it.

Quietly, Soah padded over, each step soft, fluid, feline, until she came to a halt before him. There, the diminutive Felacatian tipped her head back, the thick dreadlocks and braids of her dark hair giving a subtle sway. And while her typical mannerisms would follow a flick of a tail or a guttural chuff from her throat, this time, there was neither. Just those large, wide golden eyes with their vertical slits staring up at him and a cant of her head to the right.

Her hooded eyes narrowed, and then with careful precision, she slid her satchel around to the front over her belly. She flicked the flap open and grabbed what she had stored there.

It was the crinkle of parchment that was the first tell. As she unfolded it slowly, the scent second, letting the rich and spiced aroma escape now from the wrapped sweetbread. A blood tart, still warm, her little prize.

A tribute she had managed to purcure before he had found her in the middle of the market.

She offered it up to Kasir with one hand.

"Control or truth, we all need to eat," she said plainly, "You should first."

No smile. No warmth. Just truth. And maybe, if he looked closely, something rather pleased with herself reflected in her eyes.