The Eye of Ranir [Osano]

[Loxa Visl]

Sith Empire Space
Bastion - Tower of the Eye
Late Afternoon

The lines of disgust were not immediately apparent upon the expression worn by Shirae Kharr, but the sentiment existed in subtle nuance. A measured, furrowed brow set tight over eyes of pale jade. The sharp line of her lips drawn by a rigid jaw. The coil of her gaze as it swept across obsidian tapestries baring a certain insignia of infamy. Clipped strides cut across tiles of polished marble, slicing through low sunbeams and tossing them askance in a glimmer of molten gold adornments.

This was the last place in the galaxy she desired to be and her reasons for being here were markedly displeasing. Inaction at such a simple request - abandonment of a an easy task. Let no one say they struck an accord with Kharr only to break it without consequence.

Too early for consequence, but not early enough for reaction.

She followed at the lead of an Acolyte dressed, shockingly, in black, and spoke not a word as they rode the lift up to the predetermined floor. This place was wretched and stunk of the Darkside, but there were certain things even she was willing to do to see a ... familiar face. The silence was stifling, but not nearly as stifling as the audacity and ego permeating every square inch of this place. The woman thumbed at a plain golden ring settled on her fingers amidst layers of far more decorated pieces, feeling a curious sensation fluctuate along the edges of her presence.

So far so good. Truly an antique worth its weight in Corusca gems, but she had plenty of those to spare.

They departed to a dull chime, took another hall and then entered through a set of black doors to a spacious chamber overlooking the planet of Bastion beyond.

"Darth Osano, High Inquisitor of the Eye," a murmured introduction from the Acolyte who bowed, "the Lady Shirae Kharr."

The lines of the woman's face softened significantly as she laid eyes upon the Darth and smoothed painted nails along the embroidered bodice of her Anarkali suit, "An honor, High Inquisitor," she greeted, voice low and faintly husky, "do I bow? My familiarity with Sith customs is regrettably lacking."

[member="Darth Osano"]

 

[Darth Osano]

The room [member="Shirae Kharr"] found herself in was a large, circular chamber. A myriad of different artistic reliefs were carved into the black stone. Some depicted ancient Sith Lords engaged in obscure rituals, others showed large battles taking place. The dome that made up the room's ceiling was painted. It appeared to show something out of Dathomiri myth, though the bottom was ringed with Sith glyphs. How remarkably cosmopolitan. There were no artificial sources of light in the room. A giant pit in the center of the room housed a gargantuan green flame. It appeared like flame, anyway. Very little heat emanated from it and it cast the room in a sickly green glow. This was as well-lit as it got.

Suitably dramatic, though inefficient. Why decorate it with art if you could barely see it?

Darth Osano appeared to be observing the flame when she entered. Doubtless for some obscure reason. Who knew what intelligence insights could be gleaned from fire watching? His focus broken, he turned around at a reasonable pace to see who has entered. "Leave the bowing for the Emperor. I don't care for it," was his only response. He kept his hands at his sides, waiting for her to draw closer. "What brings you to the Tower of the Eye?"

 

[Loxa Visl]

An artist might've said that the flame's color agreed with the woman. It reflected off the gold of her ensemble in thousands of stark, dancing glimmers, creating the illusion of coiling, slithering scales as she slowly made her way in. Green eyes took the hall in with a broad sweeping glance, lingering on the Dathomirian scene high above for a moment longer than the rest before landing upon the masked Darth.

"As you wish," she drew towards the flame and drank in the hue, hands folding at her back. Shirae took a moment to sift the seeping presence of the Darkside from her thoughts, began by gently clearing her throat and rounding her shoulders into a stance of determined poise.

"Several reasons. To begin; I have a pressing need to find a certain individual who has proven a challenge for previous applicants. The express delicacy of their apprehension cannot be defined more strongly - this is not a flippant mission for some common bounty hunter rabble. The target is exceptionally skilled at avoiding detection, if reports are to be believed."

Right arm extended, Shirae offered the man a datachip pinched between fore and middle finger.

"Her name is Pheraella Sanzio and she was the personal assistant to the former Sovereign of Kuat. She went missing after the Omega attacks, there is evidence to suggest that she evaded capture and may yet still be residing in the Kuat sector."

 

[Darth Osano]

This woman is flesh and blood. It was something Darth Osano had assumed, but after hearing that particularly verbose spiel, he was beginning to have doubts. She clearly was a robot, or some kind of cyborg. Express delicacy of apprehension? Gesundheit, more like it. Still, she wasn't complete unintelligible, so there must have been some humanity left within her. He accepted the datachip and appeared to inspect it. The Tower of the Eye had strict protocols. This would not be inserted into the mainframe, just some dummy computer to ensure it was free of malware first.

The malware that was already there, the one he had installed, did not need any company.

"Kuat is far from our borders," Osano very shrewdly observed, gesturing about the room. "The Eye of Truth focuses inward. Here, in Sith space."

If she wanted the Sith to go hunting for someone outside of their borders, she should have gone to the Sith Shadows. Ah, but the Sith Shadows were lead by the Harrison man, and the Harrison man had all the competence of a sack of drowned birds, not to mention the same force of personality. [member="Shirae Kharr"] actually wanted this job to be done, but circumventing proper channels had a high price.

"What reason do I have to order my men to chase personal assistants who live elsewhere?"

 

[Loxa Visl]

Shirae recalled her arm to its previous position at her back, right hand flexing momentarily. There was something about this place that spoke to the corruption already running through her veins and it ached, painfully, in the joints of her right arm. Her expression was stoic in face of his short response but a flicker of something intense flashed within her gaze. It was brief, like a flame fluttering in a side breeze. The desire to speak candidly was strong - she ignored it.

"The Eye of Truth might focus inwards but Darth Osano is a man of many far-reaching talents and resources. He's come highly recommended by a ...close acquaintance who knows him by another name."

"Maleagant."

 

[Darth Osano]

"Interesting." His birth name of Maleagant was not exactly a secret. There were plenty in the Empire who knew him by that name before he adopted his title as Darth. His surname, however. That was the big secret. But if [member="Shirae Kharr"] thought that this was a big reveal, he would let it ride. "Compliments from strangers don't pay my bills, though. And the Eye of Truth is still making payments on this tower."

Such was the way of the Sith. No one ever did anything for free, even the government. Though in all honesty, Maleagant was less interested in spending money paying for this tower and more interested in using it to finance the acquisition of a private military company. He had need of such things. They made coups easier.

"The Queen of Kuat had many personal assistants. Why do we need this one? What is she worth to you?"

 

[Loxa Visl]

"Payment is a non-issue. Name your price."

Business had always been good for the Kharr dynasty, even after Ranir's unfortunate mishap. The galaxy had yet to lose interest in the acquisition of the rare and often priceless. It was highly unlikely it ever would. Shirae turned to face the man fully and began taking slow strides in his direction.

"She is worth my time and my freedom," replied the woman levelly, "and we need her as a cog in the machine of a bigger picture."

She came to a halt at the man's direct front, pale jungles bleeding angry acidic green in the glow of the center flame. Kharr's facial features suddenly appeared far more slanted, savage, sharp. The woman that eyed the mask on Osano's face was not Shirae.

"Nice hat. It's better than the last one."

 

[Darth Osano]

If she could only see his chit-eating grin. Those did not come around often. Now that she was closer he could see her more clearly and decided that [member="Shirae Kharr"] was decidedly not actually Shirae Kharr. Definitely more of a Blackthorne, especially in this lighting. You had to appreciate the green-on-green-on green. A gauntlet-clad hand rose up to gently cup Shirae's chin. He tilted her head lightly to the left, then to the right. Like he was inspecting her.

"I could say the same for you." Far be it for her to have the monopoly on the barb-trade. His hand dropped back to his side.

"I think," he said, "I'll see you in my chambers very soon. Then I will bring you Runaway Pheraella Sanzio."

And who said there was no place left for the barter system?

 

[Loxa Visl]

Thick lashes fell heavy at the gesture accompanied by a faint tick upwards of lips, humoring him his inspection without fuss. It had been many months since their last interlude and a great deal had transpired since then. For herself she had gained access to very deep pockets in the form of Shirae Kharr's inheritance. Challenges that had previously presented themselves as great mountains to overcome had suddenly become non-issues, just like her payment.

Along with Kharr she'd somehow managed to get herself nestled into the pockets of a very powerful man on Point Nadir - reunion with an estranged Aunt notwithstanding. There were fruitful talks and negotiations had. Each bringing her a step closer to the very end goal that had started this entire charade.

"I could say the same for you."

A mocking wince at the jab for his efforts.

A lofted brow of intrigue for the rest.

The softer lines of Shirae Kharr's appearance reformed as his gloved fingers left her chin, acid cooling to pale mint in a stilted blink.

"Such things you say," hushed between them then, more loudly, as the Acolyte stepped back into the chamber, "thank you for your time, High Inquisitor." Shirae's svelte tone echoed over the dull roar of the flame. She turned sharply from the man to follow the Acolyte back out looking as resolutely displeased as she had walking in. No one ever claimed the Sith were pleasant to deal with and today was no exception.

 

[Darth Osano]

Later that evening...

When activity in the Tower of the Eye was winding down and the union-mandated eight hour work day coming to an end, Maleagant found himself in his personal chambers. Since taking a step back from the Helix Syndicate, Darth Osano had been spending more and more time in the Tower of the Eye. That meant his living space had to be moved here. Unlike the chamber he had previously met the not-Blackthorne in, this one was decidedly more up to technological snuff. Mostly. In the far corner of the room was a brazier burning with the same green flame. And a tapestry depicting some foul, spider-like abomination clawing its way out of a canyon.

A more romantic set-piece had never been seen.

[member="Shirae Kharr"] would find the door unlocked, and find Darth Osano pouring himself a drink. "Lady Kharr. What a surprise," he said - without looking up and while pouring a second glass. One that had been placed next to the other. Definitely unexpected. "I hope you didn't get lost on the way?"

 

[Loxa Visl]

The Lady Kharr had no immediate rejoinder as she strode in through the door, green eyes cutting a cold path over her shoulder to the form of the same Acolyte disappearing from view as the door closed.

"Difficult to get lost when you can't go anywhere you're not supposed to be."

Yellow tape. Yellow tape everywhere. She recalled running into the very same measures at another tower on another planet far away from here. But that was years ago and the Master in charge no longer resided there. She always hated yellow tape, the sentiment remained even though the subject was now green flames. Green flames everywhere. Sith were strange.

The spider tapestry was a nice touch, though. An Arachneri - beautiful creatures and very rare. Did they have one here to speak of? She didn't think they were a Force Sensitive race.

"Your new family has a peculiar fondness for green flames."

 

[Darth Osano]

"Yes." He said. "The larger one and the one here are for my rituals."

He finished pouring and, taking both glasses in hand, crossed the room to pass one off on not-Blackthorne. It smelled like Whyren's. Osano continued, "The rest were set up by underlings. They don't know any better. Set pieces. They're useless."

He lowered his hood, free hand reaching behind his head to fiddle with the helmet's sealing mechanism. There was a hissing sound as it began to unseal. Maleagant had underestimated just exactly how far the mindless tenant of "follow the leader" would resonate among his Justiciars. Green flames had popped up everywhere now, but since the Justiciars were not familiar with their meaning or actual use, they were shallow imitations. Mockeries. It was intended as a sign of respect, but Maleagant had a lower opinion of the lot of them for it.

Not that he cared enough to correct them.

 

[Loxa Visl]

She was standing by a table towards the center of the room when he met her with the glass of top-shelf. Delicate fingers adorned by the gleam of gold took the drink and lifted it for an indulgent whiff. Whyren's had a remarkably poignant aroma similar to cinnamon - spicy, rich, heady. It was a shame the same man handing her the glass had managed to choke on the very same stuff at their last meeting. At least he was getting to enjoy it now.

Shirae Kharr lightly tapped at the glass with a painted pinky, the beat of a brow at the memory the only indication of her passing amusement. It quickly shifted for interest at the sound of hissing and the absence of his cowl. Glass met table surface, abandoned by the hands that reached to the mask as the seal released. Whether she was more eager to inspect the mask or see the face beneath it was difficult to say, but the gesture came without challenge and so she carefully lifted the helmet from him.

The metallic facade gleamed in the light of a green flame while held aloft. It was heavy - more than she'd expected - and cold to the touch. Must be an expensive piece.

"Mmm," mused the woman as her arms lowered it to gently set on the table by her drink, "it is fearsome, no doubt. Your underlings must be terrified of you, Darth Osano."

"Should I be as well?" a glance up from where she stood, already close enough to have taken the helmet, close enough yet to make out the stripes adorning his bare skull. She resisted the urge to trace her fingers along them, for now.

 

[Darth Osano]

Maleagant had been planning to remove the helmet himself, but the assistance of Shirae Kharr was not at all unwelcome. "I'd hope so." His face looked much like it had last time. Rattataki. Bald. Stripes. Greyish skin. Red eye. A Shi'ido in theory, not in practice. Maybe he was out of it, come to think of it...

It was, of course, true. That the underlings were terrified. Or perhaps that was too strong a word... Fearful and respectful, maybe. Darth Osano was somewhat of a mysterious figure among the Justiciars. He did not speak to many of them directly, which led to the development of a variety of rumors. Some more accurate than others, some contributing to what many would describe as an undeserved reputation as a sinister figure among the Sith. The way Osano played his games, he never really had to do anything directly any more. It was just a matter of fanning the flames of rampant speculation in just the right places.

Really, it was almost like he had a practice run with a similarly structured organization beforehand. What a strange notion.

"Should you? No," he answered, pausing to take a drink taking a drink. "Wouldn't be good for your reputation."

Clearly she wasn't the only one remembering something, although he was remembering a different part of the evening.

 

[Loxa Visl]

He wasn't the only one to remove a mask. The flicker of green firelight cast a wavering shadow across a face in the process of shifting and melding. Soft, refined features of a faraway woman seemed to melt away at the sharply curved facade of the Pirate known only as Captain Blackthorne. The process took effort, judging by the lines of her expression, may have even been painful; but a viper appeared where once smooth sand had been.

A sanguine smile met him, no teeth bared ... for now.

"Oh but I'm not a Captain today," a low murmur for a voice, "see, the Lady Shirae pays someone else to hold that title. Her reputation wouldn't be too bothered by a little bit of ... dark tarnish," another step brought the distance between them to nothing more than a stray lash and she found to her delight that the gained height of her heels made the man all the more easily accessible.

"Doesn't that sound fun?" ah, there were the teeth, blazing behind a cheshire grin, "I can scream if you like. Give your peons a good show to listen to."

 

[Darth Osano]

"Dark tarnish, eh?" There was nothing inherently exciting about either word, but context could do wonders for a simple Shi'ido's excitement.

That and the sudden absence of distance - this was all something of a welcome development, even though the sudden proximity made it impossible to actually drink from his glass. Somehow he'd manage without it. At this range, Blackthorne was proving a much more powerful intoxicant anyway. His other arm coiled around her, finding the small of her back and resting here. "That's a pretty generous offer." His hand strayed a little lower, then in a sharper motion he pulled her even closer.

"What other generous offers are you going to make me?"

 

[Loxa Visl]

Hard to say where this sudden assertiveness had come from in the Sith but she liked it. Maybe it was his newfound title. Or maybe it was the green flames altering his behavior. Or maybe it was the drink. Not that it really mattered so much. Gold-encrusted fingers smoothed across the hem of robes at his front as she hung there by the strength of his arm alone, pulled to her tip-toes even in her heels. The Lady bit at her lower lip and leaned in to nuzzle along his jaw line.

"An opportunity to stretch your entrepreneurial wings," lips found the line of a stripe and followed it to his ear while her fingers twisted around the cloth of his collar, "there's a business gala coming up at Point Nadir. All the big wigs of the criminal empires and underworld have been invited. You should come," her teeth found his earlobe and nibbled, ever so gently, "as my date..."

...and in other ways - this insinuated by the leg slowly riding up between his own.

 

[Darth Osano]

Maleagant had no idea just what was so appealing about the stripes, but given Blackthorne's affection for the feature it would be little surprise to anyone if he had morphed into some sort of Zebra the next time she came around. Suddenly there came a nibbling on his earlobe, prompting a low and pleasurable grumble from the Shi'ido... Followed immediately by the sound of his glass shattering against the floor as he dropped it.

Funny how he never got to drink around Blackthorne, but use of two hands had been prioritized over Whyren's. A true tragedy for any alcoholic. Now he hefted her up completely, failing to stop until she was off the ground - legs tactically wrapped around his back. He drew his face close to her neck, muttering, "I think I'll hear that scream first."

And so began the short walk over to the bed.