Private The Secret Apprentice

[Romé]

ALL TOO WELL
~They say all's well that ends well but I'm in a new hell every time you double-crossed my mind~

TAG: Darth Malum of House Marr

​

ALVARIA, OUTER RIM TERRITORIES

Life, death, immortality. What is the Sith Order if not bounded by such questions of mortality. Inexplicably, all the taxonomy of Sith studies, alchemy, archeology, or otherwise, lead to that very question. Fueled by the fear of death, or to lose someone to the unwavering threat of death. From the mighty Emperors of the Sith, to the rogue Acolytes double-crossed by their supposed benefactors, no one is truly immortal. If you ask a cynic such as myself, it's not just mere generic emotion that guided the Sith. They like to claim that it is passion. It's not. It's fear. All those hours they put on their body, mind, and soul, only to inevitably be slain by their rival, or worse, their student. Such is the life of a Sith, one I am trapped in ever since Malum of House Marr took me away, or as he liked to call it, rescued me, from my home, from orphancy.

Unlike the other Sith however, I'd like to think that I'm not bound to the same mental block. Death is not a nightmare, it is salvation. The only fate better than death is one of glory, and such is the way I approach life. That's why I train and I learn and I network and I scheme. There's nothing to be lost by 'losing the game', there's only two endings to it, glorious victory, or the sweet release of death.

The ancient knowledge and history of the Sith is a peculiar one, once again, a long lineage of tales based on fear. It has always piqued my interest how this group of people managed to build a vast empire, all in hope of escaping the inescapable. The structures and the artifacts and the codified knowledge, thoughts, dreams, and prophecies. If circumstances are what threw me down this path, this whole thing I like to call the Sith Enlightenment is what makes me stay. Despite my cynical view of the Sith philosophy, despite the shame of being the secret apprentice of an apprentice, despite my hatred of my kidnapper. It lit up my vigor and vim in this mortal world. I still long for the eternal darkness that will devour all of us after death, but there's finally a purpose in this life.

Arcane magic, alchemy, dream and auspices, all that matters in life, my usual evening after a full day of training. The fight, the swordplay, I never found those interesting, and the scheming and the shadow are just means to an end. Good thing that Malum filled me in on those fields, especially the former, I would've never put a single second on those otherwise. But now a time reserved for myself, and the vast world of Sith Enlightenment. It's alchemy tonight. I've been working on a Sith Sword the past few weeks, imbuing it with ancient wards and enchantments. Perhaps it needs just a few more ingredients, ones that I could find in the Stygian Caldera, but that's for another day. At the moment, I just want to refine the wards I have in my possession, all by myself, unless a certain someone decides to bother this peaceful night.
​

 

[Darth Malum of House Marr]

His dark locks flowed freely through the wind, as his boots softly trudged across the grounds around his destination. He had been walking for many hours now, across plains, hills, and everything in between, his cloak the same colour as his hair, flowing as freely as his mane for every second of it. An annoyance, yes, but a constant one, one which after the first hour, he accepted as some inevitable and unavoidable parasite. Of course, it was neither inevitable nor unavoidable, he could have met with some locals and procured a horse, taken some land mobile from his own Guard, or even flown the Lochris here. Hells, he had experimented with using the Force to bend time and space itself, to launch himself through it and reach his destination, though not perfected, the strain on his body immense, even that might have been preferable to this long walk through the darkness and cold winds.

So what was his excuse?

Well, a nice walk allowed him to get his mind sorted.

Not in the sense of most people, who would take a walk at night to destress, to calm their nerves, to generally bring themselves to the centre.

No, Malum quite literally meant to get his mind sorted. After all, when one undertook what could be generously called an experimental use of Memory Rub and Alter Mind on... oneself, well suffice it to say the mind required some peace, quiet, and calm to reconstruct itself when those memories were brought back into the veil.

However, that raised the question of why exactly he would use such powers on himself. Well, even now he was not quite sure, another side effect of the process as he had come to understand it. The mind was not designed to simply have memories ripped out of it and then placed back in, least of all by the mind in question. Yet, that was what his mind had gone through, and such it was that it attempted to cope with the trauma it had inflicted on itself, the memories returned slowly, a trickle, rather than a deluge, overloading itself would only break it.

He was not even quite sure what he would find in the chateau estate in front of him, though he could already tell that it was inhabited. The gardens were well maintained, while the grounds looked lived upon. Yet, why had Venerandus told him to come here...

Cillara

The name opened a fresh blast of memories, and all suddenly clicked into place.

The girl who had stared up at him in horror on Terminus.

The girl who had lost everything in their conquest of the system.

The girl who had made him doubt... doubt if any of this was right.

Well, calling her a girl was already far from right, she was not much younger than himself. That fact did not aid their dynamic any.

Memories trickled in slowly, he had taken her in as his apprentice. Though he had no right, certainly not enough knowledge, after all, he was still an apprentice, having only recently been brought into Darth Ophidia's fold, only barely upjumped from being an acolyte. Yet he had done it anyway, a secret, a secret he had only shared with Venernadus and Custos, a secret which his Mistress could never learn... lest it ruin them all.

A Sith might have left her to die. A true Sith would have left her to die. Yet, he had not. What reasoning did he have that would content him? That would content her? He had said it was to save the scion of a noble line from the tragedy of orphanage, poverty, and much worse. Yet, he was no fool, he had seen in her eyes, hatred. A hatred for him, and all his Order, this Empire, represented.

That hatred would serve her well, that hatred would let her tap into the Dark Side with more ease than all her peers. Though, she had no peers, did she? An apprentice, of an apprentice.

He scoffed a smile with sadness in his eyes, at the very least, she would no longer be that.

As the last of his memories returned, he could only wonder if this woman would be the death of him. Not in the romantic sense, of the very same words he had read in those books of old, but in quite the literal sense.

He remembered why he had taken this walk here, dealing with the inevitable and unavoidable parasite that flapped onto him every moment. Though it was far from kind to say, was it not to prepare him to deal with the inevitable and unavoidable parasite which he had invited himself?

Rapping his knuckles along the oaken doors of the estate he had gifted her, the estate which had been her... unfortunate comfortable prison, as he had hidden her existence from the galaxy, from his Mistress, as he had brought Alvaria under his control.

He could not help but wonder... even with their strange dynamic.

What were they?

He could not be certain what she thought of him.

Yet, in that same vein, he could not be quite sure of what he thought of her. A pity project? A tool? A subordinate?

A daughter?

He stopped the thought there, it would be too regretful to continue, and he already knew it made little sense. If their closeness in age was not already a hint, she had parents, long gone, buried in the ground, and to think she would ever think their killer, direct or not, as a father, was... optimistic, to say the least.

A sister then? A younger, to highlight his seniority. Yet, even then, it did not sound right. He had sisters, older and younger, and their relationship had not been this. Indeed, if Malum and Cillara were siblings, they might have been the most dysfunctional siblings that the galaxy had ever seen.

An apprentice then.

Yet, that did not quite feel right either.

The wind answered his question, with the same voice it always gave, as he waited for the subject of his thoughts to reveal herself.

Cillara Hilexis

 

[Romé]

ALL TOO WELL
~They say all's well that ends well but I'm in a new hell every time you double-crossed my mind~

WEARING: x
TAG: Darth Malum of House Marr

​

ALVARIA, OUTER RIM TERRITORIES

Brisk wind clashes with the stone pillars that hold the mighty chateau structure, with it bringing a few things. Tangy scent up in the air. Whispers of souls and flow of the force creeping through the insulated glass that protects the chateau's inhabitants from the unrelenting winter. He's here, the Lord of Duty, the Heir of Marr, my punisher and my savior, once again freeing me from the sweet solitude of this barren, desolate land. It's not common knowledge that hate and attachment are two interconnected feelings. Hate is a more intimate feeling than love. When you love someone, you are still able to let them go, liberating them to pursue the long-awaited gift of death. Hate is a whole different level. The one you hate is the one who resides in your mind, and the one you hold dearest in your heart. And what it is that I feel about my master if not hate.

The fire that swallowed my family, my home, my sense of identity, my dignity, it was all him. It doesn't matter that he wasn't the one to ignite the flame, every man is an extension of its head. The isolation, the discretion, the utter disgust on his people's face when they see me, the gut punch and nauseousness I felt whenever I sense the extent he's reaching to hide me from his contemporaries. There isn't a day that passes without me hoping for the end of this exile. To once again be free to peruse the beauty and sins of the galaxy, of arcane pyramids, of ancient scrolls and corpses of the hierophant. To be given those as a scheduled gift is a shameful disgrace.

It has passed my mind a hundred times a day, to prematurely end the man's life and feast on his flesh and roam the galaxy without all these shackles. Yet the time is not there yet. I take the man's life and life essence and then what? Even his master, his rival, and his other half are not aware of my existence, don't get me started with the Emperors and Empresses. From where, thenceforth, would I secure the ecosystem to learn even further of the Sith Enlightenment? The time is not there yet. It is in my best interest to see Lord Malum of House Marr ascending the Sith hierarchy, up to the golden throne of the Order. I just have to wish that today is the day. Or he'll just placate me with another one of his sweet, sweet reptilian promises.

Thus I shall abandon my workshop for the moment and wrap myself in a delicate, dignified robe of nobility, and welcome Malum to his own estate. "Lord Master." I let out a low hiss, making myself appear to him. The jet-black locks, the sun-kissed skin, the sharp-yet-calm, red eyes. Who is Malum of Marr to Cillara Hilexis? Father, brother, master, lord, genderbent Oedipus Complex-fueled parental figure, psychiatrist, family-killer? Family killer. Kill? KILL. KILL KILL KILL KILL! Soon… For now, pleasantries. "What is it that brings you here tonight?" I said, as I took his right hand and pressed my lips on top of his palm.
​

​

 

[Darth Malum of House Marr]

Malum's cheeks were dusted with pink, as her lips grazed his palm. It was quite the reversal of expectation, after all when two noble scions met, it was the masculine which would kiss the knuckle, while the feminine which curtsied. No doubt his noble apprentice knew that expectation, yet that was the key after all, the first example predicated on equality between them, yet between master and apprentice, equality was far from the case.

So it was that he did nothing, said nothing, as his eyes instead gave her a once over, she looked well. Well, was at least eating well, while maintaining herself to the standard that a warrior should be held to. Or at least he assumed, after all the dark apparel left much to the imagination, still, staring down at his apprentice, he could not help but admit to her attractiveness.

Not.

Not, to his attraction to her mind you, he could feel his cheeks reddening a tint, yet was quick to catch himself.

No no, whichever gentleman, that would catch his apprentice's eye would no doubt be a lucky man, and the House of Hilexis could be rebuilt.

Or it could be a lady.

He considered, his mind was cloudy on this aspect, he supposed... Malum actually was uncertain what Cillara's tastes were when it came to the matter of masculine or feminine, or both. Still, whoever it was, they would no doubt be lucky.

If Cillara gave them a chance that was, Malum could not claim to know if his apprentice had any warmth in her soul, he had not seen any instances in their two years together. Yet, he could not exactly blame her for that, losing one's home, one's family, to be whisked away to be hidden could not be easy for anyone. He knew she could be passionate, angry, hateful, and much else, it was what had let him find her, what had helped him convince him to save her, but would that translate to good?

He hoped.

Hells, he hoped that the news he had for her... might just reveal a hint of that good.

But he had always been the optimist in that aspect, hadn't he?

He did not respond to her call and did not answer her query, as he walked past her, moving towards a table with some sort of local red wine, and some glasses, the only sound between them was the sound of the red liquid pouring into the goblet, and then it being swirled around, before Malum took a sip.

He gazed around his surroundings, the servants whom he had hired to maintain the estate had begun arriving, most seemed alright, wearing their uniforms, as if soldiers of some great house, which in some sense they were he supposed, but some had a strange look upon them, if he did not know better, he might have thought it desperation. He waved it aside for now, after all, what was more interesting was that it seemed that quite a few of the servants were no longer here... curious, he had been generous with their salaries, maybe Cillara was more difficult to handle than they had expected... no matter, more servants could be found.

"Leave us." He spoke gravely, with the voice of a Sith. Such theatrics were not necessarily needed, after all, these residents of the planet likely knew exactly who he was, if the Antonist priests were doing as they had promised, and with how quickly they filled out, some with clear signs of adoration and... relief? On their faces, Malum knew, the efforts to make it known heard loud and high that the heir to the First One had returned was well in effect.

Which meant that his plans were soon to come to fruition.

He turned his attention back upon his short apprentice.

"How have you been Cillara?" Malum spoke softly, his eyes softening, ignoring her question again, as he bade again, as he had tried in the past, over and over, to reach some accord with the young woman, "Have you been eating well? I hope this estate has been to your liking? Have the servants been good?" He was bombarded with questions, perhaps missing the irony of doing to his charge, what he himself had hated when he was one.

Yet how else to prepare himself to give the news that would change everything between them?

Cillara Hilexis

 

[Romé]

ALL TOO WELL
~They say all's well that ends well but I'm in a new hell every time you double-crossed my mind~

WEARING: x
TAG: Darth Malum of House Marr

​

ALVARIA, OUTER RIM TERRITORIES

I followed my master throughout the mazes that is the chateau estate, moving towards the room that has been a silent witness of the rituals and debaucheries that has been held all over this structure. I served myself a glass of red wine, a placid break from the pungent smell of metal smelt, thousand pages books of runes, and ancient totems. I have reached the 'appropriate' drinking age for a short while now, if he remembers. From the way he peeked a glimpse at my figure earlier, he must have. How improper.

"I've been… good, master, eating well. The servants are… quite fine." My master is undoubtedly not aware of my specific dietary preference. An heirloom of my almost extinct family, a legacy that has been inherited throughout generations. One day I shall pass it down to my children. It's one of the few things that can connect them to their ancestors. The servants Malum left here have been alright. Most of them are aware of my cannibalism, but a combination of terror and devotion have pretty much kept them in line. I've always treated them well, saving them from the threat of getting themselves or their family from being the main course of my monthly grand dinner, rewarding the ones who snitch their suspicious colleagues. It's not wise to eat where you shit. The few that are prone to blab their mouth are metaphorically buried across the planet, perhaps even in a gutter of a nearby planet. You reap what you sow, that's the name of the game.

I took a seat across from Malum, lowering my head slowly, still maintaining eye-contact. "But the estate… the estate, the planet, they are a cage, a confinement. I do wish to explore out of the planet once in a while, master. I feel like it would be good for my learning and development." My back's straight, eyes pleading for a promise. It's true that I've been on a couple of voyages on my own; Kinooine, Shiva IV, Delrakkin, even Yalara. Yet it's still so far from my dream of reaching Korriban, Ziost, and Dromund Kaas, a journey that at this moment is impossible to reach without at least my master's blessing. My alchemical endeavor would be benefited so much from such a trip. Not to mention the people that I could meet there.

I would hope that this visit is the moment where he fulfilled those desires, granting me more freedom than he has been these past years. Yet, I have a feeling that it's a different affair entirely, or hopefully, it's just a smaller part of a much larger announcement. From his demeanor from the moment he arrived, I can sense something troubling, or intriguing. They're just a different side of the same coin after all. "You're not here for mere chatter, I reckon. You haven't been in a while." I captured his eyes once again, from across the table, trying to distract him from his thoughts, pulling him back to the meat of the conversation. "What is it, then?"
​

​

 

[Darth Malum of House Marr]

He could sense she was hiding something from him. Both regarding her wellbeing, and the servants, yet he brushed it off for now. What teenager was ever willing to tell their guardian about how they truly were? While for the servants... perhaps embarrassment that she had chased some off. Truly, she did not need to worry, most were not used to serving nobility as them, much less Sith, they had high standards, and some individuals simply would not cut it. Perhaps, it was a good thing that those who failed had revealed themselves, and would make the next round of hirelings far more able, survival of the fittest, and all that.

Sitting as he swirled his glass, he said nothing as she took a sip as well from hers. An idle thought wandered by his brow, was it perhaps the best idea to have left her alone with alcohol? She seemed fine, far from the alcoholics and binge drinkers he had met across the galaxy in his travels, and he had given her access and the resources to purchase as a sign of trust, for he did want her to feel as free as possible within the confines of the planet.

Nobles younger than her had partaken in the drink, Bogan knew he had, it was an expectation after all, that one trains their palette to be able to handle what was even to an enjoyer of alcohol a rather... acquired taste. Yet, by youth, one might have a single cup during celebrations, and no more. While here... though Cillara was far from a youth, she had unfettered access to that oh-so-addictive substance, with the only oversight from being those who held to her, allegiance.

Perhaps that was why they had such turnover?

Still, there was nothing to say, past his own idle worries. He had no evidence of any abuse of the substance, she was of age to drink, unless he found anything further, and bringing up his concern would only lead her to be likely, rightfully, defensive.

And that was the last thing their difficult relationship needed.

Instead, he addressed what else she said, and as she spoke of a cage, of being confined, of wanting to explore, he could not help the smile that graced his lips. Not out of any malice or soft sadism mind you, but the realisation of how much she was like himself, though he would not directly, verbally, make that comparison, uncertain of how she would react. Yet, the comparison was there, how long ago had it been since he had run away from the Marr Estate on Jutrand, to take his in retrospect, incredibly stupid adventure on Korriban, how long had it been since he had railed against being forced into the Palace of Silver Rain on Saijo, and instead travelled across the Imperium under the apprenticeship of his Mistress.

The smile faded from his lips.

His body still ached from the last trial that his Mistress had put him through, his mind ached further, his heart further than that, for they knew after all that he had accomplished with her, for her, loyally, and ably, it was now over.

Not just his apprenticeship.

But too, his service.

He broke eye contact with his apprentice, wondering how he would put this. Giving her all she wanted, but for one more delay, that could break them.

Or make them.

"Reckon, huh?" Malum turned back, a ghost of a smile that did not quite reach his eyes, "I see you have been picking up verbiage from the servants," Another distraction as he sorted his thoughts, it was a little thing really to point out, neither rebuke or compliment, simply a note, it was rather interesting actually, to see his normally so prim and proper apprentice speak such a word. Mayhaps it was a sign of her change? Yet a sign of what, he could not quite say? All the more likely, simply a slip of the tongue that meant little and little else. Still, he did not miss that accusation, one which tore at his heart in a way that he did not expect it would, "As for my absence... I am sorry." It was true, he was, not just for his absence, but for so much more, she deserved far better than his guardianship, his neglect and absence, it was little wonder that she was so cold towards him.

Would he not be the same?

Yet, as an apprentice the last four years, for the last two years that he had taken her on board, what could he do? Apprentices had taken on other apprentices, in the far-off past, yet they were the extremely rare exception, that only validated the rule. To take on an apprentice, while you yourself were one, only invited suspicion, mistrust, and paranoia. Yet, curse him and his bleeding heart for doing so anyway.

Knowing that with all he would need to do, he would be far from a good master.

Yet that would all change now, wouldn't it?

"I have been busy, as you know, not just with the Civil War, the Kainites being thrown out of Sith space, to take up residence upon the Old Worlds," It did sting a little bit, had he not once imagined that he would be at the forefront of that campaign, to retake Korriban, Dromund Kaas, and all those great Sith worlds lost to them? He had been an advance force in a way, exploring the worlds when they were still ruled by the Ashlan fools, yet his defeat to the Kainites had taken him west instead, "And then, too the final subjugation of Alvaria, along with my own duties as apprentice."

He looked away for a moment, into the distance at nothing in particular, but allowed the memories of her teachings to wash over him. How was he to do this?

"Cillara, there is no easy way to put this... I am sending you to my estate on Eliad, where you stayed before I was able to take Alvaria, I will not hear complaint," Get the woes out of the way, before the desires, that was the strategy he would go for, "My Mistress has struck the Emperor at his heart, yet has failed to cut. He will soon be here with the might of the Imperium at his back," Malum was surprisingly calm about that, far calmer than he actually felt, a mix of having a plan, and for the sake of his apprentice, he told himself, "there will be a very good chance that I will fall, in that case, my final instructions to you will be to make yourself to my family, they will keep you safe, and complete your training, you will inherit from me more wealth than you will ever need," A smarter master might have not given further incentive for his apprentice to kill him, yet, he was far from a normal master.

"Yet, if all goes to plan, I will not fall." A real smile graced his lips, one which still, however, did not quite reach his eyes, "Darth Empyrean will come here directly, as is his won't, an opportunity to negotiate with him... far from the eyes of my Mistress," The smile lost a piece of its edge, "I shall slay my Mistress, and take over control of the Tsis'Kaar, a new day, a new horizon for us both."

And the crescendo.

"I have been knighted, Cillara, Darth Malum," A twinkle was born from his eyes, using his own name for his title was perhaps a bit egregious, yet it seemed oddly fitting, he had already been the exception when he took on Cillara, why not embrace that further? "Once I survive the Emperor's arrival, I shall call for you from Eliad, announcing to the whole Imperium that you are my apprentice."

He stood from his seat, towering over the seated, and already short apprentice below, "I hope that is what you wanted to hear."

Cillara Hilexis

 

[Romé]

ALL TOO WELL
~They say all's well that ends well but I'm in a new hell every time you double-crossed my mind~

WEARING: x
TAG: Darth Malum of House Marr

​

ALVARIA, OUTER RIM TERRITORIES

An apology. There's a sense of remorse in his words. It is no secret that Darth Empyrean has been moving, consolidating the power over the dark domains, striking the final blows on every deviant warlord and rogue knight. That the old Emperor was exiled to the Old World. That the Tsis'Kaar failed to capitalize and establish a Shadow Empire for eternity. In a world where power projection is everything and every dog looks to consume its brethren, a failed attempt of assassination, coup, and regicide, is a death sentence on everyone involved. So yes, if we enlarge the scope and take a holistic view of everything that has happened in, amongst, or in juxtaposition of the Sith Order, it is understandably so that the newly knighted Darth Malum is off scurrying to the Dead God's feet, licking his wound, buying his fate off one failed Order, bargaining for a position in an eventually another failed Order. Such is life. Nothing is eternal, even the so-called Sith Eternals, especially them. Or whatever Malum is doing is making it us, for now. Nothing is eternal, except death.

Yet I am not a rational being who looks at things holistically and takes into account what others called the greater good. There is no greater good, except I. Malum's reasoning for his absence might make sense, but it's just simply not enough. Not enough to shift my thought of it, of him, of them, of everything. I didn't respond to anything he said. The stories, the duties, the apologies. There's no reason, not until the mentions of Eliad and inheritance. I tried to think of whatever negative things that would come from agreeing to such an arrangement, but the benefits really outweigh the drawbacks. While everyone else is wheeling, dealing, or fighting, I will have my own space to further study what I had to, experiment what I need to, create what I want to. I will have the opportunity to explore a new world, meet new people, establish a small pocket of power and influence for the day that will eventually come. "You shan't mention such encouraging words, my lord. My affinity and proficiency in poisons and the deadly arts has only been growing since the last time we met." The mention of inheritance is a really strange move from my master, perhaps a sign that he knows me better than I thought. Every other apprentice would have thought of offing him on the mention of the word, yet greed is not a trait I uphold.

An apprentice slaying their master, such an appropriate ending for the life of all Sith, whichever cardinal trait they embedded. Pride, for my master, perhaps. So young, yet so full of conviction. that he has what it takes to slay his mistress, to take the Tsis'Kaar, to face the Dead God, to charm his way to the top. Or perhaps it's greed, for all the power and control, so early, so soon. Or maybe it's lust, though I wouldn't have any idea if it is that. Patience is mine. What would all the wealth bring me, without the knowledge, without the guidance, without the privilege of rummaging beneath the shadow, hiding until I am strong enough to take the best of the best?

Death will not do us part, Darth Malum and Cillara Hilexis, not today, not by the sword of some heretics and false prophets. If there was any trouble and uncertainty in his voice, demeanor, or mind earlier, I want to take it off. His plan might not be the wisest of moves, yet one is to move with grace and faith to achieve the very thing they aimed for. I extended my hand to cup my master's cheek, staring deep into his eyes, leaving no room for hesitation and hiding. "Our story has just begun, Darth Malum. The only thing I want to hear is a triumph of victory when you set your foot back in Eliad, master. Nothing else." There is no lie in my voice, just conviction. Faith that my master will succeed in his endeavors, and return to me as a man ready to finally take on an apprentice. Failure is not an option, not for me, not for him.
​

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[Darth Malum of House Marr]

Malum had to blink rapidly, it was confusion, it was shock, it was surprise. Cillara's hands were upon his cheek, her eyes, dark and heady starting sharply into his own. Her words, far more... authoritative than an apprentice's had any right to be. Yet he did nothing.

Was he supposed to do something? Was he meant to do something? Should he do something? He was very unsure, another hallmark of how unprepared he was to take on an apprentice it would seem. It made sense, they had known each other for two years, and no matter her rather... negative, feeling towards him, time built a sort of intimacy that genuine affection could only rival. As for the other part... still, even after two years, very uncertain on how he should act towards his apprentice, even after now being made a knight, that uncertainty did not go away. After all, even now, his mind when he thought of himself still saw an apprentice and not a knight.

A knight should know how to act towards their apprentices, no?

Yet of all the things his Mistress had taught him these last few years, near half a decade, how to teach an apprentice was not one of them. After all, there was no set way, to instruct an apprentice, the closest was an academy, and all the students of an academy yearned to be taken under the wing of some knight or master... he knew he had been. You became an apprentice to a singular lord or lady to gain that special sort of training, that one-to-one instruction you could never find with someone else.

So was he doing this correctly?

Well, he knew that his Mistress would have never let him touch her face. Nor exactly would he have ever been comfortable even attempting to.

Was this a sign of her strength then? Or a sign of amiability? He was not entirely sure either way.

He moved his head out of her grasp, his hand coming out to catch the errant hand. Not to hold it roughly mind you, simply to keep it in its place, as he looked down to his apprentice, before going up on a knee, his free arm upon the other knee, their gazes level.

"You are a bold one Cillara, to think to extol such authority," His smirk grew wider, as if resisting a laugh, "Yet, we are of the same minds, you will hear on the holonet that Alvaria fell to Imperial forces, but you will hear from me that I have made our alliance, and have left to take upon my duty at Fiviune, you will join me in orchestrating our great project, and all shall know of my new apprentice."

He did laugh now, though more a chuckle, as a glimmer in his eye emerged, emerged in the depths of fiery ruby eyes.

"So tell me, apart from your poisons and toxins, how has your training been?"

Cillara Hilexis

 

[Romé]

ALL TOO WELL
~They say all's well that ends well but I'm in a new hell every time you double-crossed my mind~

WEARING: x
TAG: Darth Malum of House Marr

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ALVARIA, OUTER RIM TERRITORIES

Did he just quiver at my touch, at the brash, provoking display his apprentice just showed? Such a fascinating reaction that I gladly take as a win. I'm willing to bet that most Sith Lords and Knights out there wouldn't take such agitative acts as kindly. A slap, at the very least, maybe a dozen of lashes, is to be expected. Even my mere mortal noble of parents would've reacted with a level of power-projecting violence to ensure that I know my place. Yet Malum is a different type of master entirely. He's not the one who needs a brutal show of strength to assert his authority in a setting, that there is a line he expects his subordinates to keep away from. A line which I love to linger around, flirting with the very edge of it, yet still have enough courtesy to not entirely cross. However his approach works with higher ranking Sith, I still have no idea of, but it certainly has its charm. I can't help but flash a grin, almost devilish, when Malum gracefully removed my hand from his cheek, and stood up to level our gaze.

"I don't doubt it, my Lord, yours is a bold wisdom I defer to." I whispered to Malum, whose face is inches to mine, never taking my eyes off his glimmery, fiendish red eyes. Reptilian traits, that's what dad taught me to identify to judge one's character. Cunning, snake-ish eyes, salacious, long tongue, scaly, silvery skin, flexible, slender joints. Ones not to trust, but to keep close. He has it. The man who butchered my family, the closest thing I have to a companion.

Taking another sip off my wine, I walked away to the front of the fireplace, effectively breaking off the twisted and sick intimacy which tension is washed away by the warm heat of the burnt birch logs. Training and everyday things, it is then. It seems that the conversation has flown away past the meat, onto the dessert. "It's going well, master. I've been perfecting my proficiency in Jar'Kai form, though it still takes me some practice to shift away from using two Shoto blades." I said to Malum, leaning my body back to the side of the fireplace. My small stature makes it more complicated to get used to a normal sized lightsaber. Moreover, I'm more interested in using a Sith lightsword that I'm currently forging to complement the Shoto saber I have, instead of just another lightsaber. "I'm halfway done forging my first Sith sword, thus my request to visit the old worlds. There's some specific runes that I want to inscribe on the sword."

Finally, meditation. It has been the one aspect I struggled the most with. Tapping into the Cosmic Force and foreseeing divinations have never come natural to me. "I had another dream. It was still short and blurry." I explained in the best way possible, not wanting to admit my lack of talent in the field. Perhaps he has some useful insights, or he knows a better teacher for that specific field of Sith Sorcery.
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[Darth Malum of House Marr]

He stood up from his kneeled position, and felt his vision shudder, a familiar shudder as it split in two, as out of him the invisible Shadow was born out of his soul. As a wraith, taking up position by the stairs, and keeping its gaze upon his apprentice. Then, he felt an unfamiliar shudder, as his vision split into three, a rogue thought trailed past his brow, was this how spiders saw, with three pairs of eyes?

He could not say, as out emerged from him, his Doppelganger, his equal in all things apart from life, for its life was bound in temporarity, and should he be summoned again... who could say if it was the same one. The band around his hand burned in the effort it took to create the creature, its purpose being fulfilled.

Three Malum's.

One real.

One a copy.

One invisible.

Three sights fell upon his little apprentice.

And shuddering again, he forced the Shadow to show himself, all the while he himself fell into the embrace of the Force, through Stealth, becoming invisible from both sight, and sense.

Within a flash, he was upon his apprentice, her chin at his grasp, as he gazed down upon her, and as suddenly as he disappeared from the world, he reappeared to sight and sense. His others, gazing on in dispassionate nothing. Automatons really, with no autonomy, independence, or want. His thralls, his slaves, in all things.

He smiled a smile that was as pregnant as a mother's, as he registered fondly all the words she said to him. It was a private joy that she had taken up Jar'Kai, after all it was the stance which he favoured, though... he had made it some unsaid rule that only those worthy of his respect would ever see him draw both sabres. The list was frighteningly short... though that was by design after all.

As for her Sith sword, he could not provide much instruction, he knew the history of the weapon certainly, used by the Sith of the past, before the widespread adoption of the lightsaber, and in that way was very much a return to an inferior past. Yet, it did hold few advantages, over the lightsaber which was worth considering, it did not hold the same weakness to cortosis and phrik which was fast becoming the counter that many turned to against Sith and Jedi alike. Maybe he needed to consider investing into a Sith sword himself...

It was the last point which brought out of him the most thought, so much in fact to let go of the grasp he held on her chin, and dispel the shadow and doppelganger. He was no natural conduit of divination or farsight himself, racking his memory he had never had a vision or prophetic dream come to him naturally.

But of course... he held a natural conduit of diviniation and farsight.

Almost as if it was awaken from its slumber, the amulet around his neck began to heat up. Malum's hand was quick to curl around it.

"Tell me of the dream, it would seem my forefather is interested," Malum spoke with both interest, and some fondness, "Afterward, if you're interested, we might duel... put your training to the test, and after that, I might teach you how to make yourself invisible to those who are looking," Just as he was taught both by his Mistress... and then he could teach her how to bring forth a Shadow or Doppelganger, teach her what even his Mistress had not taught him.

Was this how to be a master?

Cillara Hilexis