First Reply The Gift of Guilt

[Zaavik Perl]

// Zeltros, Zeltros //
// Local Time: 2300 //
// The Gift of Guilt //​

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Water splashed quietly beneath hushed steps. The rain had been falling over the capital city of Zeltros for almost eighteen hours. In the farthest outskirts of the city, the bustling atmosphere, bright neon signs, constant holo-advertisements, and beautiful people on every corner were traded in favor of dark streets, rampant homelessness, and an ominous silence that was only occasionally broken by the shattering of glass and/or a speeder alarm. The smoky smell that lingered in the air from all the barrel fires of the homeless Zeltronians evoked memories both fond and otherwise. This was home. A repulsorboard floated overhead, carrying with it a bright holo-advertisement for the upcoming Pazaak tournament. The residual light was just enough for Zaavik to get a better look at the figure he'd been following for several blocks.

The coated figure was more than ten meters away. He'd kept his distance to avoid being seen, and had been successful so far. Looking over them as the light passed over, it was rather difficult to make out anything distinctive. Given the distance, it was practically a futile effort, to begin with. Teeth gritted together, he continued to follow them. Turning down another street, weaving through a labyrinth of alleyways, and eventually onto a narrow road that only ever saw foot-traffic.

Zaavik hid just behind a wall as the figure knocked on a large metal door. Even through the dark, he could see vague visions of a slot opening and small gestures as words were exchanged. The loud creaking of the door opening before eventually clasping shut was his signal to leave the hiding place. He strode forward and placed his back against another wall, just around the corner from the metallic door. A hand gripped tightly on his lightsaber, he waited. Retribution wasn't the way of the Jedi, but he didn't feel like he'd ever be at peace without it.

 

[Delsin Shaw]

The Zeltros streets were filled. Rain pelting down upon the cloak worn by the dark individual. While it felt deftly upon the robes, some louder plunks seemed to almost reverberate upon the faceplate of the Lord. A feeling of... eyes continued to fall upon them. It was a feeling that one would trust for many years living alone, and well within the system that would be considered by many, A undesirable line of work. At most for now, Kaar could only continue onward. Weaving their way through others who had seen better days. Sliding past others with their frame. While not overly large, was one that clearly carried a presence of authority and power. One that wished for anyone to leave them alone.

It was upon coming to a door, a series of knocks for a code were wrapped upon the door. The armored glove was lowered to hide once more within the cloak as the eye slit opened up. Revealing the face of a Zeltron. A rather beautiful set of eyes shone through, with the rest of the face obstructed. Words were exchanged. Spoken in the motherlanguage of the planet. Zeltron. Simplified down to a password, while questions of a riddle to be answered in correct form.

The door latch could be heard of unlocking, before opening up to the bright room. Mere moments as the cloaked individual walked through and shut the door behind himself. The latch thrown down by the woman. Zeltron, Deveronian, Chiss, Two near-humans, and another armor clad individual. While the Lord was mostly concealed underneath the cloak, the armored woman was clearly a Mandalorian in some right. Dar'Manda by the looks of it. No symbols or emblems upon them.

"Who invited the Sith here?"
"I did, He has a powerbase that we could use. Plus, we need connections."
"The Sith are egotistical, selfish, bastards that killed my Kin."
"I have prematurely ended the lives of many. However, no Mandalorian has met my blade."
"So he talks? Why should I believe you?"
"Darnal Verin was my surrogate father. After his death, I found employ with the Sith."
"I don- Wait, Verin?"
"Lets worry about family lines later. Sith, you have any shadows?"
"One, but seems alone. We will have to move deeper."
"And the Sith is followed here! You need to leave now."
"No. You all will leave. I will take care of this shadow, and we shall meet later."

A silence fell over the individuals here. The Zeltron taking that as word almost. Starting to pack up whatever she had while the Deveronaian and the near humans also did the same. However, the Dar'Manda seemed to not want to do so. Staying there for a moment before pressing some button on their helm. A moment later just locked her holsters down and walked away towards the other exit.

The Sith lord moved to the table they had been sitting at. Pouring two glasses. Even though he would not be partaking. Moving to sit down in the chair, the Crossguard lightsaber was revealed and laid out on the table. Easily seen as a form of not being hostile. While the others left, the Lord continued to sit. Waiting for what may come of this secondary shadow the individual had stalking him.

"This will be interesting."

Zaavik Perl

 

[Zaavik Perl]

Hesitation.

No one could really blame him for having second thoughts, right? He really shouldn't be here, nor should he be doing this. The allure of vengeance was powerful. So powerful in fact that it'd led him all the way back home, to the depressing slums of Zeltros. Constant thoughts of what Allyson Locke and the New Jedi Order would think or do when and if they found out about this was the only thing keeping him held back. Even if he didn't go through with it, the fact that he had intended to at some point was enough to enact discipline. Could a murderer be redeemed if the victim deserved it? Would his master disown him? Would they think him cruel, dangerous, unfit to be a Jedi?

Is life still sacred when one life disregards another? If one life torments and ruins the life of another, does the Jedi way still protect them? This would be no different than taking down a Sith, right? Zaavik punched the bottom of his fist into the wall he stood against in frustration. Nightmares, insecurities, scars. They would all go away if he just cut off the head of the beast. Or at least, that was the level of bargaining he'd come to in order to cope with the ghosts of his childhood.

Hesitation.

Zaavik huffed angrily, a low growl emanating from deep within his throat as his vocal folds vibrated. Storming around the corner, he tugged on the metallic cylinder that hung from his belt. Emerald plasma expelled from an emitter a break-neck and abrasive fashion, mimicking his fury. The viridescent anger cut through the door quickly in quick succession. A subsequent clang of a boot on metal ripped the door free from its threshold. A leaden smack echoed through the room as it planted flat into the concrete ground within.

The droning verdant blade entered from the darkness beyond, pointed forward vindictively. He stepped out of the rain, water dripping from his coat onto the floor. The hood coupled with the wet strands of hair that hung in his face could nearly obscure his identity, were the green lightsaber not a huge tell. His eyes immediately met the masked man at the table, to which his brow furrowed in confusion. His azure eyes scanned around the room, keeping the blade pointed at the sole individual in his company.

His anger swelled, he'd been certain that those he sought would be here. Instead it was just a masked man sitting at a table, seemingly disinterested in his entrance. "Wh- What the hell is this?" he asked, as if he was owed some kind of explanation. Thought processes had devolved into assertive and irrational machinations. "Who the hell are you supp-" he stopped mid-sentence as he noticed the lightsaber on the table. This was clearly no Jedi. His came closer to his face, pointing the saber the Sith's way even more aggressively. "You. You set me up, didn't you?" he accused.

Hesitation.

Delsin Shaw ​

 

[Delsin Shaw]

No expression was presented before the individual who broke down the door with quite some strength. Having one singular kick to knock down the door, depending upon where the kick was aimed, would be difficult, or at least jarring. However, the pure strength given by this exposed Lightsided individual, Kaar did notice. Even the saber that was being pointed directly at him. Or the questions posed in rather quick fashion. Or the fact that there were allegations that this was a setup.

A shaking of the black helmet was met with hands coming up. At first showing being unarmed, followed by removing the cowl of the cloak. Exposing the rest of the black helmet.

"You give me too much credit. No. You lack skills in stealth."

Pointing to the saber in hand, with a lazily thrown hand as though it was clearly evident.

"You can feel within yourself. Anger, passion. The hesitation of such thoughts. One so young as yourself surely should be second guessing all around them."

The same finger that was pointing with authority, then was formed into an open, upturned palm that indicated the chair across the individual. As well as the glass in front of them. Black hand slowly falling to the table. Letting the fingers rest against the edge. Barely holding onto the edge. Using it as a placement, the Sith shifted. Moving forward in the seat. Almost as though this were an interview.

"Come. Sit. I would have no guest of mine not have some form of hospitality."

Any form of emotion was hidden from the lightsaber wielding individual. As Kaar suited highly towards Emotional strengths and the passion of strength. It was clear that motives not of fights, wars, or combat was being held here. Unsure if it was due to arrogance of the Sith, the ineptitude of the Lightsider hiding their presence. However one thing was clear.

The Sith wanted to play.

Zaavik Perl