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

[Darth Virelia]

"Foreboding."

Tags - Niysha

Virelia laughed.

Not her public laugh—not the cold, spine-tingling note she used to cut through chambers and silence apprentices with a look. Not the blade-sharp one that accompanied executions or political turns. This was a smaller thing. Softer.

Low, husky. Almost surprised.

"You," she murmured, "are absolutely ridiculous."

It was not a criticism.

She let her hand linger where it had brushed Niysha's jaw, then slid it lightly behind the other woman's neck, cradling the base of her skull with deliberate grace. Not forceful. Not possessive. Just present. Steady.

Her voice remained low, like it had adjusted to match the hush of the garden itself.

"You drink something that nearly burns a hole through your throat, and still find a way to make it a compliment."

She tilted her head, her own expression unreadable, though her eyes softened by a fraction. Only a fraction. That was as far as her armor went. Any more would feel like taking it off entirely, and she… wasn't ready for that.

Not tonight.

Maybe not ever.

Her fingers shifted just slightly, thumb drawing a small, absent-minded circle at the base of Niysha's skull as she studied her. So calm. So aware. So devastatingly open. The kind of openness Serina hadn't thought could exist in a world that ran on knives.

"Brilliant. Powerful. Dangerous. Gorgeous." She echoed the words like a mantra. "It would be easy to believe that you're just flattering me. But you're not, are you?"

It wasn't really a question.

Because that's what terrified her.

Not that Niysha wanted her. Not that she followed her. Not even that she understood her.

But that she meant it.

Virelia could command fleets, twist minds, level cities. But here, under poisoned roses and ceremonial light, the only thing she couldn't bend was this. That soft, stubborn, clear regard. Niysha didn't serve her out of awe, or fear, or calculated ambition. She stayed because she chose to.

And Serina—Darth Virelia, with all her titles and weapons and names—couldn't control that.

Not entirely.

Not without destroying the thing that made it beautiful.

Her lips parted, then closed again. There was too much to say. And none of it would land right. So instead, she watched Niysha raise the glass again and offered a nod—serious, solemn, regal, hers—to the toast.

"To my passions," she murmured, "and the one person who has ever survived standing close to them."

She clinked her glass gently against Niysha's, then sipped, the liquid running down like liquid iron mixed with starlight.

And when Niysha grinned again—that slight, awkward grin that meant she was admitting to her own limitations—Virelia let her silence stretch a little longer than usual.

She wanted to say something kind.

She wanted to say something commanding.

She wanted to correct the record. Assert control. Rewrite the narrative into something where she had the upper hand, where she was not just vulnerable to love but victorious over it, as any Sith should be.

But she couldn't.

Because this wasn't victory.

This was surrender.
Beautiful. Measured. Voluntary. But still a kind of surrender.

And she didn't know if she hated it or not.

Her expression didn't change. She was too well-trained for that. But her posture shifted again, infinitesimally—her thigh brushing against Niysha's, her hand at the back of her neck still holding gently, thumb still moving, a circle, a spiral, a ritual of touch she hadn't realized she'd needed.

 

[Elane II of Kuat]

​

Elane gave a subtle nod more so out of custom than agreement with the Imperator Lirka Ka . She did not readily yield praise but neither was she entirely incapable of acknowledging a valid point however brutal and simplistic it may have sounded to the Iron Banker. The hydra analogy was suitable for a network of autonomous limbs feeding off the same empire.

In her estimation, it was a hierarchy prone to infighting, but if governed with meticulous oversight, it could, ironically, create a form of resilience alien to most centralized powers. "It is a strategy founded in realism, Imperator. And that is rare among Sith." Her tone was level, yet still carried the weight of studied critique.

"Though I wonder, how long can a meritocracy unchained by order sustain itself before the competition among heads leads to fratricide? Unburdened hierarchy often degenerates into the pursuit of destruction for its own sake." She placed her hands together in front of her, her face maintaining its usual calm demeanor, as she leaned on the wooden cane for additional support. If Lirka's model succeeded, it would not be the first hydra to wear a crown, nor the last to strangle itself with its own coils.

Her eyes narrowed, not in threat, but in evaluation. It was the look of someone calculating risk and profit simultaneously, weighing not only the words she heard but the future cost of hearing them again.

"Companion Besh is indeed fertile, but so is the soil of a graveyard. Be mindful not to exhaust your legions upon frontiers that yield more glory than grain. My associates in the Sith-Imperial Banking Clan will, of course, be observing your campaigns with keen interest. We wish to see returns, not from conquest alone, but from sustainability. Death pays quickly. Infrastructure pays forever."

A pause for effect.

"Though I could see to it that your hydra is well fed, and those of your rival legions malnourished." Elane presented an irresistible offer that most would find hard to decline. In the larger picture, the Legions were primarily competitors, and any edge had to be seized to guarantee their position at the pinnacle of power. With the banks mostly under her influence, it would be relatively simple to postpone funding for the other legions.

 

[Lunaria Talon]

Location: Sovereign Plaza
Tag: Matteo Guo-Yian

_________​

Artemis looked down into the drink as she took it, her fingers curling around the large cup before lifting it just enough to catch the scent. Sweet…With something sharp and acrid underneath. The feeling of Matteo's arm settling around her shoulder kept him from giving it a try. He eased the raw edges of her nerves far more than anything in the glass ever could.​

​

She let herself lean into him just slightly. Not too close. Just enough to feel the grounding weight of his presence beside her. It didn't make her forget where they were, the noise, the people, the layers of people, and Force signatures pressing in on all sides, but it did make it manageable. Less like drowning. More like…Treading water with someone who knew when to pull her up.​

​

Or let her sink. ​

​

Eyes of gun-metal blue swept the plaza again, softer now, not so wary. The air shimmered with motion and as beguiling as it was visually, she couldn't help but sense what lurked underneath. Danger. Beautifully baroque and full of barely contained esoteric mystery…. It was deeply, deeply dangerous. Matteo didn't seem to notice that. Half of the patrons didn't seem to have a care in the world. "Yeah it's really...Really amazing." ​

​

But…@Darth Empyrean wasn't his father.​

​

"I want to go to the Arcane Court…See the labyrinth.", she said quietly, as if saying it too loudly might break the comfortable bubble he created. "I heard it changes every time you enter. That it…Shows you things. Based on who you are." ​

​

There was a note of curiosity in her voice that was a mix between fear and excitement.​

​

"It's probably just a maze with some dramatic lighting…But still." ​

​

Her foot kicked at a pebble before she raised the cup to her lips and tried the beverage Matteo had procured. Artemis felt her throat burn while her nose squinched up in distaste, wrinkling, at the bite that followed almost immediately. It took all she had not to cough while she sucked in a little air through her teeth. Not for the first time, nor the last, Artemis reached out for her mother.​

​

Matteo got to see her all the time…But Luna? A glimpse. Here or there, maybe. If she was lucky.​

​

Lunaria knew it was for her own protection, that her mother loved her in her own way, but it didn't stop her from noticing a missing shape in the Force. It was too quiet, too empty, with every sensitive turning into white noise because of sheer volume. Her mother wasn't the type to blend in well even when she tried. There was just…Something. Luna didn't know what it was.​

​

But…She'd hoped to catch sight of her. Or feel her. Even, just a little.​

​

There was no hurt in her, only a quiet sort of wondering. She gave her head a little shake before letting her head rest on his shoulder for a moment. "Food sounds good too…Is there anything you want to see? The market has alchemical tattoos and all sorts of things." ​

​

She straightened up and gave him a little nudge. Why he put up with her? Luna would never know.​

​

"C'mon Tea-yo…You can buy me something nice." ​

 

[Eira Dyn]

Location: Dromund Kaas (New Kaas City) - Sovereign Plaza
Attire: Red and Black Dress
Equipment: Hidden daggers under the dress
Tag: Wrathian Kell

Eira sniffed and rolled her eyes, "I confirm nothing of your suspicious. I am merely a single voice in a sea of much louder, much more important voices. If you think what I say, what I believe reflects the entirety of this Order, that speaks more of you and your desires to jump to conclusions." Eira stated, her red eyes burned with indignation as she studied the Pureblood before her. "What is happening over on that table could be for a number of reasons that we have no idea about. They could have found out he is an enemy of the state, that he is secretly tied to the Jedi or that he was stupid enough to insult one of them or their friends to their face." Eira could see that this man loved to jump to his negative assumptions on the Sith. Anything to reinforce that they were no longer capable warriors.

That only he could lead them. The arrogance was insufferable.

"It is more laughable that you believe that we should just accept that your Jedi scum wife was going to be anything but a danger to the Sith and ensure the destruction of our Order under your rule." Eira countered, she had no interactions with this Jedi, she had no background and she refused to just accept that this biased man's view. Wrathian would never see that there were always going to suspicions surrounding the Jedi, did not matter if they didn't talk about their lives as a Jedi or supposedly hid a marriage. There was an entire career path for spies, undercover operators within the Jedi Order known as Jedi Shadows.

She gave a sad laugh, "you are blinded by love. So blinded by it that you cannot even comprehend the notion that others will always be naturally suspicious of her. We both don't know what she told her fellow Jedi, you do not know if she lied to you, was working undercover. Using you as a way to infiltrate and bring down the Order. All you have is the idea that your love was enough to unwind decades of indoctrination." It was pitiful in Eira's mind but she did not push the matter further.

The eyes of Srina Talon on her, it made her skin prickle with goose bumps, but she did not acknowledge it yet. "I did not intend to pass your tests. I do not care for your judgements on me. There are others here whose opinions of me I care for most. If I fail their tests or assessments of me, they are the ones I would feel devastated about." Her eyes turned to Srina Talon as she said that. Highlighting one of the people whose opinions of her Eira did care about.

Her glance returning to the Pureblood, "wild fire consumes all in its path. People forget, it is not too difficult to control how a fire shifts and burns. As long as you control it before it becomes too wild." Eira trusted in Quinn Varanin as her Master to ensure she did not become too crazed as a Sith. Too wild that she was no longer a force to be controlled. Eira desired to be tempered into someone formidable and deadly but not someone seen as a wild fire.

 

[Matteo Guo-Yian]

Lunaria Talon

"If you want to see the Court, then the Court it is." Luckily enough getting to there would pass them through the food stalls and such anyway.

His drink was gone after the second deep swallow and a soft sigh.

"What do you hope to see in the Labyrinth? Are you looking for some kind of revelation?"

It could just be idle curiosity, but more often than not when Lunaria had some sort of want there was something behind it. In that way her mother and her were remarkably alike.

Srina had taught him a lot.

"Oh, look, here." Once they passed by the food stalls. "They have nuna drumsticks, oh, that stall has popcorn nuggies. You want to share a sack?"

Matteo considered her question. Was there anything that he wanted here?

"Would you like a matching tattoo?" Sudden wicked tone.

Srina would probably kill him for even suggesting it.

 

[Parvati]

ＰＡＲＶＡＴＩ
Communing with ✦ Her ✦ Amalia Visconti | Mira Rhory ✦
↳ Signal Confirmed // Your Eyes Only // Burn After Reading

Parvati walked with them, deliberate as ever. Her boots struck the stone walkway with a patient, unhurried rhythm. Around them, the market's upper tier pressed on, stalls of exotic weaponry, nerve-toxin perfumes, datachips thin as petals. Even here, at the edge of things, the air buzzed with the kind of tension that money couldn't quiet.

They passed a vendor pushing polished stims in bone-white vials, their wares glimmering like trophies behind hanging chains. Parvati reached out, not to take, not to linger. Just a soft brush of her claw-tipped glove against one of the metal links. Durasteel. Lightweight, and ornamental...cheap. She didn't break stride.

"The Thandon sector's already flinching," she said, quiet but firm. "You can feel it in the way the dockmasters watch every outbound load like it's their last. In the cargo swaps happening off-manifest. They're preparing for a siege they won't admit."

Her eyes lifted, not toward the stars, but toward the cloud-wracked sky barely visible through the towering superstructure of the Concourse. Lightning played across the dark above, the kind that lights your teeth from behind. The pressure hadn't broken yet, but it would.

"If this place collapses, if Dromund Kaas falls, then the Corporate Sector won't wait long. Not really. They'll posture, stall, hedge their bets. But they'll pivot. They always do. Trade routes will seize, credit lines will freeze, and someone will show up with enough fleet muscle and pretty words to offer stability. Order in a gilded sheath."

She glanced toward Her, then toward Amalia. Not asking permission, but signaling understanding.

"And we'll already be moving by then. No banners or broadcasts. Just a shift. Smugglers rerouted, middlemen paid, ships redirected before the old guard even finishes deciding who to blame."

Her voice didn't sharpen, but it cut all the same. "You'll get your war. And I'll get my corridor."

The next step she took was just enough to mark intent: half a pace ahead before falling back in line, letting them walk together again, shoulder to shoulder.

"I'm not here for a monument," she said, low. "And I'm not looking to rule. I want something that survives, quiet, unfailing. Something that stays when the rest of it burns."

The next flash of lightning didn't wait for thunder. It cracked high above like a warning shot. The storm had begun to turn.

Mistress of the House ⛧ The Velvet Guillotine ⛧ High Priestess of Vice​

 

[Wrathian Kell]

Sovereign Plaza
Tags: Eira Dyn

Wrathian did not interrupt, he did not move, he didn’t even breathe. He let her speak. Every syllable, every tremor of rage beneath confidence.

Then he inhaled and what he let out was. “Ah.” It wasn’t amusement. It was acknowledgement. Like a scholar who’d seen a footnote in a book. One to confirm a theory. Ugly, inconvenient, but correct.

“My words struck then?” His head tilted over to the table. It didn’t take a genius to see that they were all at the very least, unsettled, by the larger man. “What matters is that they fear him. And they’re ready to commit violence because of it. The reason matters little.”

Because that was the truth. Especially when he carried himself like he could decapitate any of them without repercussions. It was an aggravating presence even to Wrathian. And If Eira really thought that oppressive force of darkness was a Jedi, or a traitor? Or if the rest were ready to rip at his throat because of an insult? Then maybe she wasn’t as clever, or possibly not as in tune with the force as Wrathian believed.

His head flicked back to her. “You claim that your voice is insignificant? That you don’t care for my judgment? That you speak separately from the Order?”

“Yet you swing your vowels like a blade.”

“Every syllable begs to be understood, as if you crave the judgment you claim to dismiss.”

“And every word you utter resonates with what I claim is wrong with the Order. You speak of distance and independence. Yet you echo hundreds who throw themselves at the feet of those with more power just to be seen.”

His gaze didn’t shift, but it was clear who he was talking about Srina Talon and the others Eira had looked to. “You don’t seek legacy. You seek approval from your gods. Like warmth on a cold night.”

His shoulders seemed to raise from the drooped position they’d been in this entire time, his shadow like a King over a Knight who stepped out of turn. “That’s the difference. I know what I am. I’m judgmental. I am arrogant. And I know I am generalizing. But I also know I’m not wrong for doing so.”

Then he cocked his head. Examining her once more. “Yet my throne wasn’t stolen by the Jedi? It was stolen by time. That which breaks even the strongest concepts. Trust. Dynasties. People.” A break in his words. “Yes. Maybe my wife was a spy. A weapon. A fool. Maybe she was back in the council chambers retelling everything she knew about me, about all we shared together.” He smirked at Eira. “Perhaps she was.”

His eyes flickered now for the first time. Not regretful, not angry. Cold. “But she also would have told them. The moment she became a threat to my people, I would have killed her.”

The Silence that followed would have been like a noose around them. “Yes I loved her. But again, love did not blind me from my goals for the purebloods. It measured me, and found me adequate. You claim love is just an indulgence, but love. True love? Has helped topple empires and emperors alike. I hope you are able to experience that kind of love one day.”

He tired of talking about his wife. It was a lapse in his judgment to even bring her up. Yet Eira didn't know her name. Never met the woman. And still had the gall to speak as if she did

“I wonder what is stronger? A controlled burn, or the memory of someone like her, for a man out of time with nothing left?”

Once again, his eyes burned bright gold like a star. It was pride. Pride of what he had. Pride in the fact that no matter what she, or anyone else claimed about his wife. He knew the truth. She was gone and his fury was cosmic, and held with the universe itself.

 

[Lunaria Talon]

Location: Sovereign Plaza
Tag: Matteo Guo-Yian

_________​

Artemis blinked. ​

​

Not because she didn't hear him—But because of what he said. Matching tattoos?​

​

The idea hit her sideways. Her expression went blank for a second as if her brain had to catch up. Then her nose wrinkled, and a laugh, a real one, slipped out before she could catch it. It wasn't loud, but it was honest. Light but unpolished. "Matteo…" ​

​

She said his name like it was a soft reprimand, like she was trying very hard not to smile when it was already tugging at the corner of her mouth. He couldn't be serious. Why would he want to be tied to her like that forever? Sure, tattoos could be removed—But what about those made with an alchemical base? He would note, however, that Lunaria didn't say "no" to the idea.​

​

Instead, she took another sip of her drink, smaller this time. Matteo down it so smoothly but the ivory-haired young woman paced herself, deliberately, making sure it would last. Her mother had always cautioned against imbibing anything more than water or juice at a public event…Or in general…But it wasn't due to some prudish notion. It was because it dulled their senses. It made their eyes less keen…​

​

It made them vulnerable. ​

​

"I didn't know a drink could get to your head that fast Tea-yo…But I'll take you up on the popcorn nuggies." ​

​

They smelled surprisingly good, and her stomach grumbled in agreement as if to prove a point. She followed his lead through the crowd, pulling her hood forward a little more to shield her face from a group of older Sith Lords who passed by too slowly. It might have been her paranoia speaking but she didn't trust anyone unfamiliar in this city. Her posture remained casual but Matteo would feel how her body coiled, alert, until they moved on.​

​

Despite her small stature and unassuming features…Lunaria was always ready for a fight. Always.​

​

Realizing that she'd been quiet too long, lost in her head, she glanced back toward her friend. "The Labyrinth…", she repeated, voice softer, but no less able to be heard. "I don't know. I suppose…I want to see if it knows me better than I know myself." ​

​

She watched a youngling spin in slow circles near the edge of a ritual display. Too young to know what half the glyphs meant, probably the offspring of some political figure. Her eyes lingered just a moment longer than they should have….Because when a swath of black cloaks passed by?​

​

The child was gone.​

​

"There are pieces of me that I don't understand…", she offered finally, coupled with an exhale that was ringed with embarrassment. Lunaria had been living under an assumed identity for so long that it made her feel like reality was slipping. Was she Lunaria Talon? Or was she Artemis Dreadmoor with a personality disorder? "I have pieces that feel like they don't belong. I think maybe I just want to…I don't know. Look at it. Whatever 'it' is." ​

​

She reached up with her free hand as her steps slowed, lightly, turning his face toward her before letting him go. Luna wanted him to hear…But also, wanted him to understand she wasn't just being silly or acting out due to her complex about her family. They were adults now and there was a huge galaxy out there just…Waiting. "Do you ever feel like there's something inside you that doesn't quite line up with everything else?" ​

​

"Like there's a version of you that's supposed to exist, and you're just kind of…Orbiting it?" ​

​

Her hand tightened on her drink.​

​

"The Labyrinth probably won't fix that…But…I just want to see what it shows me. Just to know if it sees 'it' too." ​

 

[Lirka Ka]

Brutalism was something of a motif for Lirka Ka. One but needed to look at the Once-Sephi's warlord like visage to understand that much, it all played into the act. Few expected the brute of grand deception after all, few expected the brute to be the one to ruminate on the state of reality and its undoing and forged the Dark Path of survival. At the underpinnings of all things was simple, savage brutality. They could cover it with the many veneers of peace and orderly society but that was not the way to survival, nay, that merely staved off the unfortunate truths of what resistance against the end of all things entailed.

Lirka welcomed the critique from Elane II of Kuat even if in her hearts, Lirka wasn't really listening all that intently. It was matters of logic, faith, and government all melded together and now walking in the shape of the menagerie they called the Third Legion. While words remained cold, there was still a certain coyness in the monstrous words of Lirka. The beast had been growing bolder as of late.

"Perhaps, it is a way more Sith should think."

In days past, Lirka may have made that specification that by all the technical laws she was not Sith. But now? Well, why bother? The transcendent path was there, and she walked it gladly. Humor strummed from the beast now, though certainly whatever punchline had come existed only to her mind.

"Ahhhh, Banker. Now you dabble in the realms of the philosophical - I wouldn't wish to bore on this most extravagant of celebrations."

Lirka had the answers to all of those questions. Fratricide was the way of the Sith, in the end the dogs consumed themselves if there was no foe to draw their attention away. The weak crumbled, the strong rose up. The worthy, murderous, few that could weather such an unrelenting storm. It had not been all that long ago the various Sith factions had been in open war, and certainly to Lirka it felt closer than to most. The war had never really ended to her.

She did not mind the calculating gaze of Elane, she all but welcomed it. Lirka understood such calculus; the once-sephi's own mind operated in such equations. Though perhaps with differing variables, risk and profit were but meager things to an Imperator - though she could never fault a banker for having such a focus on them.

"How very curious, are you a commander, or are you a banker? I am certain you and your fellows have your eyes glued onto this newest of formations, and I am sure you have noted that the inherent costs of its formations are much lesser than its kin - a Legion, tithed from an Empire in its entirety. It is an efficient form of production, is it not?"

In some ways, the Third was a microcosm of the Empire itself, such was the great vastness of warriors that would call it home. A unifying banner for the myriad peoples that called the Order their home: for better or worse. Lirka did not much care for the choking yoke of standardization, but it did certainly have its uses. Though, the offer laid before her was met with a brief silence of contemplation.

"And that, even more curious. We shall speak like calculating minds - I offer you that little show of respect, Banker. I see a handful of paths before me now, you have offered me this little treason as a test, if I accept, you will scuttle to the powers that be and bring about my end. Or that all of the Imperators have received your offer and you are merely waiting for the most lucrative deal, which I would certainly not fault you for. But it is the third path that I believe is most fitting for people like us, those who live in the shadow of the Sith. The deal with the devil. You do not offer me this out of the goodness of your heart, so tell me, Banker."

She stayed as casual as she could, though leaned down some to be at closer to eye level with the old woman.

"What do you want?"

 

[Aether Verd]

Assets: Beskar'gam | Basilisk
Darksaber | Resolute Dawn​

DROMUND KAAS

“The Darkness suits you well.”

The words left Aether with a calm certainty as he regarded Darth Prazutis, the storm casting light and shadow across the towering Sith Lord’s warplate. “Likewise, the Galaxy has known my House as conqueror and guide both. Mandalorians have long memories.” His gaze held steady, acknowledging the weight between them with the firmness of steel meeting steel. “And so, you will find no quarrel from me either, as I am a guest in the Empress’ house.”

When Srina straightened, he noticed. In that breath, godmother and child settled crowns upon their brows. The Emperor of Mandalore and the Empress of Jutrand now sat across from each other. Yet when she spoke, when she said like father like son, he could not help the smile that found him. No matter how heavy the crowns, they were still kin.

“A voyage made to flatter you would be a road worth traveling,” he offered, a touch of warmth cutting through the charged air before continuing, “Alas, I did not cross the stars only for that.” He leaned forward, tone clear. “My blade does come with a condition, one that motivates all mercenaries: coin.”

Of course, she knew that. The word retainer implied as much. Yet he spoke it aloud, letting the simple truth settle in the space between them. His way was not the way of the Sole Rulers who came before. His decisions, and how he led, would be different.

To her reminder of Eshan, he nodded, unflinching. “The warriors who followed Mand’alor the Infernal and her Warmaster Kaine Australis ignored many warnings. There was ample opportunity to avoid ravaging your home, or to ensure that their strength matched the brutality they displayed. They failed, plain and simple.” He met her gaze. “I will not hold a grudge for that.”

He listened then, truly listened, hanging on every word as it came. When she finished, he spoke again, voice steady.

“I know our bond does not need proving. Time may lay dust on old ties, but it does not dissolve them. This offer is not out of obligation, nor debt. We owe each other nothing, and that is the point.” His eyes searched hers, the young man she once fed dumplings to now seated before her as Mandalore, yet still her kin. “I remember what you once told a stubborn man a lifetime ago. To let the past die, and if I cannot, to kill it.”

He shifted, leaning forward, a quiet conviction in every word. “My vision for Mandalore is one where we are not the accessory of Light or Dark. Where we are a pillar in the cosmos, our way a constant in a Galaxy that churns and shifts. To make that real, I will begin putting to bed the chains that bind my people by offering our craft, war, to the one soul I trust here.”

His gaze settled upon Prazutis for a breath, though his words remained for the Empress, the meaning clear for any who listened. “For too many generations, my people have aligned themselves with one side or the other, only to be betrayed. The Jedi used the Mandalorians for their crusades, then turned on them out of abhorrence for their violence. The Sith, betrayal and ambition have always been their way. I do not fault the Jedi or the Sith for abiding by their nature. Mandalore can only fault itself for not being mighty enough to weather those storms.”

His eyes held firm. “I will not wage war against your House for razing Mandalore. The Infernal was too weak to stand against you then. But now, Mandalore is Iron. We will not know betrayal again. Nor will Mandalore suffer so much as a scratch, ever again.” Aether’s words settled like an oath between them, his conviction as immovable as the mountain he had become. “For our price, the Empress will have access to the mightiest warriors in the Galaxy.”

He let the weight of his words settle, then relaxed into his seat, the iron in him easing as the matter settled. The moment of crowns had passed. When the festivities were done, the details would be waiting for her on Jutrand. For now, it was enough to have understanding, to share this table with kin and former foes alike. To have a fresh beverage waiting, ready to lift in quiet toast.​

Srina Talon , Darth Prazutis , Gerwald Lechner , Kurayami Bloodborn + Open

 

[Aris Noble]

"Nothing given, everything taken." It was such a Sith mentality it actually made Aris's stomach churn in disgust. Not that it showed on his ever passive face. All those lessons, having difficulty showing emotion turned out to be as much a boon as a curse when it came to being here. He watched her curiously as she lifted up the object, though.

".. Isn't that a bad idea? Could be cursed or trapped or the like."

Or was that the wrong assumption to make here? They surely wouldn't put out objects that could hurt guests. Or maybe they would? This was an oddly frustrating fact to think on.

Adean Castor

 

[Darth Carnifex]

"Heavenshield still lives, as by design." The dialectical antagonism between them was too potent to entirely discard. When darkness rose, light rushed to meet it; again and again and again. The constant conflict between these two opposing forces, epitomized in Darth Carnifex and Thurion Heavenshield respectively, led to a greater understanding and deepening of the Force. The Dark Lord grew stronger after every battle, like a sword with a whetstone.

"It is strange to me that you have come here. Those who fought on behalf of the Maw have not typically responded well to those of the Sith Empire. Then again, you do not appear to be someone who is particularly invested in the thoughts and opinions of others. Did you likewise fight for the force that arose to challenge the Alliance from the Deep Core?"

Whatever Carnifex thought of Solipsis and his plans were ultimately inconsequential, but if there was one strong conviction the Eternal Father held it was that all these attempts to tear the Alliance down came at the cost of building a stable Empire. The Maw were heathen marauders that ultimately consumed themselves just as much as the Alliance hacked them apart, and the Dark Empire couldn't maintain itself after their strike at Coruscant failed. Now He was hearing reports of more unrest in the Core Worlds, and to Him it had all the hallmarks of another incursion.

Regardless, the more the Alliance was forced to look inwards, the more the Sith Empire could advance unimpeded in the Outer Rim. More pressure could be applied where needed, and the Alliance would forever be split in two fronts.

He then looked to the stalls and festivities around them, "As an outsider with your disposition, I am sure our ways appear strange."

Mercy ​

 

[Kasir Dorran]

Soah Ty’Jyn
​

Kasir pressed forward once more through the obsidian halls of the Arcane Court with elegance no mortal could fathom, fluid grace that whispered of shadows. Each step was a precisely measured caress over the floor, like cool breath gliding over glass. Silent but potent, true to being one of his undead species.

Though he barely turned his head, the Sangnir's senses were every bit capable of catching the flick of a tail, any quiver beneath the tattoos, and each pulse echoed, like a message he could read. He spoke not at first. His gaze, like a starless sky, remained fixed ahead, watching everything unfold like a deep wound that refused to close.

Recent memories stirred from the depths of his razored mind. “Yes. On Naos III,” he murmured. The air was thick with iron and smoke, as if he inhaled the metallic scent of blood from an incense. Pale digits twitched at his side, betraying the unrest beneath his cold calm. “The High Priests requested the head of their Mayor in return for capturing a brother in faith.. and using him for political gain.” There was no pride in his words, nor any satisfaction. "So, I delivered what was asked of me."

But it was the flashbacks that teased the edges of his consciousness. Kasir recalled the chandeliers that fractured into shards, along with the slow tearing of a throat beneath candlelight. Even now, his fangs remained bared. He inhaled slowly.. exhaled slower. This rhythm served well to silence the primal hunger.

"I will depart for Tund soon," he stated, voice sharp. "And once finished there, on to Kesh. There is something I must retrieve." He should have begun the journey already, but something had stalled him. And yet, here he was, precisely where he wanted to be in this moment.

"You could be useful," he added, his tone neither inviting or dismissive. Instead, it was a line cast out, like bait. "My path will always have space for you."

Possessive by nature, yet.. accustomed. His voice softened just enough to confess a heavily guarded truth. “I do, however, think it would be best if you continued your studies on Korriban. Before, or after, it matters not."

There was no strategy, no manipulation. If anything, it might've sounded like a farewell. "There are more resources at the academy. More than I will ever be able to provide for you." He did not ask her to stay, nor to follow; he simply left the space open.

Whatever called to him, pulled him forward with an invisible thread, it felt right to be here.

They entered a narrower corridor; walls were lined with glyphs. A symphony of screams and laughter echoed from dark corners.

Danger should have screamed in his veins, but it would not; instead, the only thing to register was protection, always unseen, but so often felt deeply.

The path brought them to another ritual circle. This one was burned into the basalt. At the heart lay a vessel filled with sentient ink. It appeared alive while stretching out to nearby shadows. Nearby, stood several hooded figures.

 

[Matteo Guo-Yian]

Matteo waited for her to feel the full range of emotions. He could practically feel them against him, it was... cute, to say the least and eventually she laughed.

Her laugh was infectious and caused Matteo to chuckle himself.

"It is not the drink, Art. Matching alchemical tattoos sound incredibly cute, doesn't it?" Bumping his hip into hers but taking her order regardless.

The last thing he would do was force her if she didn't want to.

"A large bag of nuggies coming right up." Matteo drawled as he stepped up and ordered the bag.

Soon enough they were walking together and plucking nuggies from the bag.

"I don't think a Labyrinth is going to know you better than you do, darling." Plucking out a particularly large piece and guiding it up for her to eat.

Trying to distract her again and maybe make her blush all the same.

Soon enough she was making him look at her and Matteo blinked. Gazing down at her and nodding slowly.

"Been that way for me since we met. The image my family wanted from me, the image the teachers had, my Master... You, myself." A shrug there. "All different Matteo's and somehow I have to reconcile all those expectations."

He leaned in and kissed her cheek.

"Let's go together then. I will help you get through the Labyrinth."

Lunaria Talon

 

[Lunaria Talon]

Location: Sovereign Plaza
Tag: Matteo Guo-Yian

_________​

He kissed her.​

​

Lunaria’s breath caught in the back of her throat, not dramatically or loudly, but just enough that she almost forgot to chew the piece of popcorn nuggie he’d just fed her. Her pallid face flushed with unbidden warmth at the small gesture. It was nothing...Just a kiss to the cheek. Light as a feather—But it dropped into her chest like a stone in water, sending out slow ripples. That wasn’t fair. Matteo lived to tease her to bring her out of her head. To bring her back to the moment.​

​

It wasn’t fair how easily he could break her calm and control. Not fair at all.​

​

Artemis chewed quickly, hiding the way her lips parted just slightly in surprise with her free hand, burying her surprise in her palm. Thank the moon, he let her move on by answering her previous question. She hadn’t expected him to say something so true. And yet, of course, she should have known that Matteo would reply to her with honesty…Not empty comfort. “Different versions of you…”​

​

“Yeah.”​

​

She chewed on that thought for a moment, wondering, how much pressure she’d accidentally laid at his feet by expecting him to be Tea-yo all the time. “I’m sorry.”​

​

Reflexive, but just as honest.​

​

The Arcane Court loomed in the distance and her eyes swept over the entryway. Everything felt like it was electrically charged, and even the air felt different the closer they got. It was quieter. More personal and less like they were lost in a sea of people. “I just…Still want to know what it can see. Who I am now…Or who I’m supposed to be someday?”​

​

The person she was pretending to be. The girl she really was. She didn’t know if any of them were real outside of being an Academy Student who hadn’t died bloody. There were things that she’d done that she couldn’t explain, not to others, not to herself. Just as Sol was swept up with the Sepulchral, she could feel the esoteric nightmares that assaulted him. Lunaria did her best to stay off their radar, but…How did one achieve without showing off? How could she be just good enough to succeed without being TOO good so that she caught their eye?​

​

And there was that weight again. Not regret, exactly. It was something heavier that was worn and quietly folded behind metallic silver eyes. They were mirrors, reflecting, not windows.​

​

“Wouldn’t it be fun if the Labyrinth looked at me and just…Drew a blank? Wouldn’t that mean that my future is open?”​

​

Or…That she didn’t have one. She finished the last sip of her drink and flicked the empty cup into a bin as they passed with a quiet ‘clink’ and her shoulders squared. The lights were dimmer, lower to the ground, and the changed air seemed to solidify with crushed herbs, oils, and old, old stone. She could feel the tension in the Force. Not heavy or violent, just wound up, like something watching from behind a veil. “Okay…Let’s go.”​

​

Her fingers brushed his as they stepped through—Not quite on purpose. Not quite by accident either. Just enough to say: Stay close.​

 

[Matteo Guo-Yian]

Lunaria Talon

The kiss seemed to bring her right back into the present. She tried to hide her reaction, but he had known her for years now, he knew which buttons to press to get her out of her own head.

It helped that her reactions were so fun, of course.

"Nothing to apologize for." Again bumping hip to hip. "You need me, I need you. What else is there to say?" All of them was a piece of him, so it would be silly to feel too bad about it. And if anyone needed a specific part of him it was Luna. How a woman could be both so fierce but also so tender was beyond him.

"Mm, it could go either way. I think the trick is to not expect or hope for one specific thing, Art." His fingers laced into hers when hers brushed his. Squeezing there without hesitation or concern.

They stepped on through.

It was just a hallway to start with. "I guess they wouldn't put all the cool stuff at the very beginning, huh?" Teasing her lightly as he glanced around. The walls were papered over, old, but still standing. More an artifact than a building it felt like. "You know, it doesn't matter what you see here, you have control over who you will end up being."

Squeezing again, to keep her grounded.

"And if anyone says different, I will be there to help you. You deserve to be your own person. Not someone ordained by cosmic fate or... motherly expectations."

 

[Darth Nefaron]

Insightful. But he must see that only one vision for the Sith will triumph.
​

Strosius was to be a roadblock, but at least not one that could not be overcome. Having one such as Helix who could remain close to the High Prophet would be rather useful should a coup d'état be necessary. Though not the plan for the time being, the Droid Warlord saw the logic of Nefaron's concerns, and that was all the Corpse Lord needed to keep him onside. He could be drawn further into the web as time went by, and Malum continued down the path to tyranny under Nefaron's watch. With the stagnation in the assembly and continued border conflicts with the Alliance and High Republic, it was only a matter of time before the Lord of House Marr came to Nefaron for aid once again. He might cloak it as a command, but in the end, future operations would be at the Corpse Lord's leisure.

"You have stumbled upon the core issue that we would face should Malum fall. Who would be his successor? Do we pluck a relative of his vaunted dynasty to sit on the throne? How many cousins does he have again?"

A joke, Nefaron did enjoy his own humor from time to time, though this was far more tame than his usual entertainment, cackling as worlds burned and thousands were placed in chains.

"No, no more Marr's. Especially if our Lord were to have... children.... they could not be relied on, not unless we were the ones to mold them, and that would take time. Allow me to suggest something a bit radical, mighty Warlord."

The Corpse Lord gestured broadly to the city around them, to the squaller hidden beneath the pomp and circumstance that was this little gathering.

"Let us pluck one who has had nothing. One who would seek to gain what he never had in their youth. Take it a step further, let us choose a candidate who is, above all else, ambitious. You might be tempted to ask why I would take such a risk, to choose one whose ambition might very well disrupt our plans."

Once more, Nefaron laughed, low and cruel as he brought forth a scheme that had long been in the making, since the day he plucked a boy from the Academy on Jutrand and began forging him to a weapon that would obey his commands all the while plotting his painful death."

"There is a boy, an Apprentice, who is beginning to understand his power and cast aside his past loyalties—one who could, in time, rival Malum in skill and cunning. Veradun was once a devotee of Strosius, tied to the House of Marr by his sister and yet thankfully removed from it, for he is not of their blood. The adopted orphan could rise to the throne of the Tsis'Kaar, thinking it an escape from my clutches. Oh, the poor fool does not see how deep my claws dig into his heart."

This is how Nefaron planned to win the great game of the Sith. Yes, there was time for legions and fleets and the destruction of galactic civilization, but his power would come from his power over the hearts of other beings, to use their fear and darkest hopes against them, to make monsters of them and turn them against his enemies. From Anoat, a great tide of darkness would claim all that it swallowed, turning them into the version of themselves they feared the most. Helix was not of flesh, and he could never fully understand what it meant to feel fear, but he was rather adept at dishing it out. That is why Nefaron approached him; that is why he desired that the Droid Warlord come into his fold.

"Yet even my prized puppet can be replaced. His fear will rule him every second he sits the throne, for there is much he does not know, secrets I will dangle before him to make him ever more willing to serve. Should he prove less than able, I will place another on the throne until there is no longer a need for it, or the Tsis'Kaar, for that matter. If the Sith are to succeed, the factionalism must end. One vision must guide us into the future. And unlike those who falsely claim to peer into the future, I have one who foresees doom for those who oppose us."

To make his point, Nefaron once more tapped his cane on the stones beneath their feet, but a small gesture to conclude his pitch.

"But I did not come to you simply to plot and scheme, I have wonderful new creations to show you. Will you still accompany me to the beast pens?"

DIRECT TAG: Helix
MENTIONED: Veradun Sharr Eurydice ​

 

[Lunaria Talon]

Location: Sovereign Plaza
Tag: Matteo Guo-Yian

_________​

"You know what I mean...I don't want to be responsible for pulling you into even more pieces. Everyone else does it to us...I don't want to do that to you. It's not okay..." , She didn't know how to explain what her thoughts were on the subject. Yes. She needed him. He was one of the few friends she had in the world who wouldn't abandon her at the promise of power. "I don't know how much control you think I have..." ​

​

'"Certain truths will never change, and blood doesn't forget. My mother...She wants me to survive. I fault her for a lot. Not for that." ​

​

Fate. It was funny he should mention that. Fate was a cruel mistress who never let her forget why she couldn't use her true name. Why she was thought of as nothing, a random student of random Sith nobility, who was just fortunate enough to have a connection to the Force.​

​

It was no small wonder that Soldane Talon wanted to run.​

​

Artemis walked in relative silence beside her much-taller friend. Her steps were slow, light, unsure of the strange stillness of the Arcane Court. The sound of the crowd had all but dulled behind them until it vanished entirely…Swallowed up by old stone and the weight of even older things, remembering.​

​

It didn't feel like any hallway or corridor she'd been in before. It felt like the inside of a breath that had been held for much too long. Stale.​

​

Her fingers stayed laced with Matteo's even when she usually would have let go. It wasn't really appropriate to show their attachment, but they were a long way from Jutrand. A long, long way from the place where they were encouraged to routinely betray each other and climb the cohort ladder by stepping on the corpses of their peers. Her thoughts stretched in the silence, and she exhaled slowly when she concluded that Matteo was right.​

​

He usually was.​

​

She couldn't let what visions the maze held for her define her. Luna knew that…​

​

But it didn't stop her heart from kicking against her ribs like it was trying to warn her.​

​

The ivory-haired woman breathed out slowly, and it showed in a little cloud. It was colder here. Her gaze turned upward while she took in their surroundings. The walls were etched—Not with paint or even proper carvings, but with little lines, burned into the surface. It was like music carved into old bones…It would have been easy to dismiss it. But, she knew. It was a language. Not in words…In rhythm.​

​

Lunaria was hearing it before she realized she was hearing it.​

​

Her hand tightened around Matteo's and the hallway shifted of its own accord. It wasn't obvious. There was no theatrical movement or the telltale signs of a Force Illusion. Just the sudden, quiet certainty that they weren't where they were anymore. The air changed again. The light shifted…And the scent of crushed herbs faded into something clean, metallic, like the inside of a training chamber.​

​

…And then she saw herself. ​

​

"Tea-yo…", she whispered the childhood nickname that she'd issued Matteo on day one. It had stuck despite his reservations and vague annoyance, and now it was just as common to her as breathing. Luna was the only one who got away with it, though. "Do you…See her?" ​

​

At first, it was like a reflection on glass.​

​

Hazy.​

​

Imperfect.​

​

But then the image sharpened. It was a woman quite a bit older than she was now…They looked so similar but it was all wrong. Not because of a scar or a wound but because she was so still. Too still. Everything about her was composed, honed, and precise. Her hair was longer and bound back with the traditional styling of the Six Sisters…Posture perfect.​

​

She looked like someone who hadn't smiled in a very long time.​

​

"…I think…I think she's me…Or supposed to be me…" ​

 

[Eira Dyn]

Location: Dromund Kaas (New Kaas City) - Sovereign Plaza
Attire: Red and Black Dress
Equipment: Hidden daggers under the dress
Tag: Wrathian Kell

Eira snorted and shook her head, "you assume far too much. It is not fear that drives them, I would not be so bold or arrogant to make baseless claims on those who would snuff the life out of me for daring to spread lies about them." Eira did not believe them to act in that manner personally but there are followers, loyalists who would find out about the lies and take matters into their own hands. She laughed when he described her vowels like a blade.

"Are my consonants not sharp enough to be blades as well?" It was a strange comment to make since she was not sure why it was vowels that cut deep, not the words or the sentences but the specific letters that cut. "A Sith should wield everything as a weapon, their tools, words and body." Her eyes flittered towards the Pureblood, "I do not care for your judgements, I do not crave the judgements of those who are lesser. That does not mean I do not wish to be seen or approved by those I respect." Eira knew there were many that she respected and admired but this man before her was not one of them.

Closing her eyes, she sighed, "they are not gods, they do not run around demanding worship or praise as if they were... Well except the Kainites. But showing loyalty and wishing to achieve respect from those you see as your superiors. That is normal, Sith of old or new." Eira stated, she did not understand why he was claiming people were gods that she wished to worship. She was not finding this conversation useful any more. He clung to the false ideals that his wife was anything but a threat to the Sith, that she would always be a threat to the Sith since they were too ideologically opposed.

And changing the ways of the Sith was only demanding they bow down to the demands of an enemy. Statements on true love made Eira want to vomit.

"Well, all you can hope for is that you don't have to find out. Crossing me will only lead to your death." She took steps back, "for now, maybe you will enjoy the rest of your time at this event." Moving into the crowd, letting herself get lost. Eira was done with this conversation and deciding to move else. Observe other things going on.

 

[Elane II of Kuat]

​

Elane's lips pressed together, not in response to anything the Imperator Lirka Ka said, but rather to inject a different feeling into an otherwise monotonous exchange, as they engaged in a back-and-forth that yielded little more than ambiguous threats and flowery declarations of success. Lirka had considered the proposal with the same chilling assessment of a predator evaluating its prey before it lunges in for the kill.

"You mistake the nature of my offer, Imperator. Treason implies betrayal of a higher ideal. The Banking Clan recognizes only one ideal and that is enduring value." She met Lirka's lowered gaze squarely, her own eyes chips of glacial ice reflecting the harsh light of the chamber.

"As to the other Legions? They are… volatile assets. Each of them lead by an Imperator who squanders their influence by merely using the title instead of acting with it. And if rumors are true of the Fourth Legion being given over to a particular individual, then they will be dead in the water financially as well. Yours is different from such recklessness and that is profitable" Elane had heard rumors from her colleagues within the Trade Network that one Serina Calis now crowned Darth Virelia had gathered considerable support and had tried to court the Trade Federation as well. A nasty individual who no clear sense of profit beyond her own ego stroking.

A dry, almost soundless chuckle escaped her for a moment just imagining the financial burden the Fourth Legion would cause for the Banks. " As for what do we want, three things in actuality. Imperator Ka." She straightened slightly, the cane taking minimal weight.

"First: Preferential access. When the Third Legion claims a world, the Banking Clan establishes its financial hub there. We secure the contracts for resource extraction, orbital logistics, and planetary reconstruction. Your efficiency becomes our mutual foundation."​

​

"Second: Intelligence. Your hydra has many eyes. We require unfiltered reports on resource flows, infrastructure integrity, and… internal pressures… within the other Legions. Not secrets of statecraft, but the pulse of their logistical health. We assess risk; you provide the data."​

​

"Third: A guarantee. Should the hydra turn its hunger inward, should fratricide threaten the Legion's core stability before its conquests are consolidated… you inform me first. The Banking Clan does not invest in collapsing structures. We withdraw before the roof falls."​

She tilted her head, the ghost of a smile touching her lips. "In return? The Third Legion's coffers remain full while others tighten. Shipments arrive ahead of schedule. Loans for infrastructure projects bear… negligible interest. Your rivals will find their supply lines mysteriously delayed, their credit approvals languishing in committee. Their legions may feast on glory, Imperator. Yours will feast on real power."

Elane leaned back, the subtle shift transferring her weight fully to the cane once more. The offer was laid bare, stripped of velvet. It wasn't partnership; it was a symbiosis of predator and parasite, each sustaining the other.