Faction The Soil Endures: From Scars to Song || Sith Order

[Reina Daival]

Tag: Varin Mortifer
Objective:

"Coruscant is a blight anyway. It'll continue to pass to various hands, until the day it is destroyed."

Reina waved her hand somewhat dismissively through the air at that, dismissing the thought of Coruscant ever being anything useful. It was a statement. A mantle piece. The Jedi would want it. The Sith would want it. The Imperials. More and more people would seek the damned rock. Not that it was important to however, as her gaze flicked over towards the mead, shaking her head.

"I don't drink anyone. Not a fan of the effects."

Yet then he said something that caused Reina to tense up for a moment. She was filling out to become quite the Sith. She wasn't a Sith. No. She couldn't be one. If anything she was a Dark Jedi. But she saw herself more as a mercenary than anything else. Though in the grand scheme of things, she cared little about the fight of the Dark Side and the Light Side. She wanted what she wanted. That was it. Yet it felt so out of her grasp...

"I've been doing jobs around the Galaxy. Mandalorians. Sith. Nearly ended up doing one for the imps."

That was a bullet dodged and a half. Well. It depended on who you asked. She probably wouldn't have gotten her skull wrecked by some hatchet. At least she was alive.

"You?"
​

 

[Skadi Lightbane]

Direct Tag: Irina Jesart
Others: Aerik Lechner // Torvald ​

As she feared, or perhaps expected, her words were not exactly well received. A wave of heat washed over Skadi like the roaring of a bonfire that she stood too close to, the edges of her hairs singing slightly and curling under the heat. She winced and turned away from Irina, so her face wouldn’t take the brunt of the scorching heat.

There wasn’t just one wave…but two, before Irina was able to regain control of herself enough to not turn the Valkyri into a living pyre.

Skadi barely heard Irina’s muttered apology through the thundering pulse in her ears, and despite the residual heat that still radiated across her skin, she felt as if someone had poured ice water straight into the pit of her stomach.

Irina tried her best to understand what Skadi had said, to process it and make sense of it. It was in the moment that the young Valkyri silently kicked herself for speaking too soon about something, yet again.

“How?” Irina asked after a moment, and Skadi didn’t have an answer. Her mind had gone completely blank, and she was stiff like a blank of wood. It took her a few moments to gather herself and force a neutral expression, though inside Skadi was a mess of confusion and uncertainty.

She suddenly felt like she didn’t have a foundation to stand upon anymore and didn’t know what way to go or which way to turn.

“I-” she started, then swallowed and tried again as she cast an uncertain glance towards Irina. “I am sorry, I-I should not have brought it up. So…nevermind I guess. Just forget I said anything.”

 

[Mercy]

​

Srina Talon

Crunch, crack, crunch, crunch, crack.

Srina was proven correct almost immediately with her assumption. The mountain next to her cared little about the bones in the nuna wings, her teeth broke them apart and then crunched them further. Heedless and without hesitation. Not a part of the meal would go to waste, because there was something inside of her... that was always hungry and always would be.

It needed constant fuel, constant attention.

"Mm, I know you do." Mercy drawled, letting her fingers run playfully along Srina's knuckle. Golden, terrible, and constantly triggering the entity within Srina.

It amused her to do so.

"Then let's strike them. Brosi was..." She sighed there. "It was quite fun, flying, ripping Imperials to shreds, but... the home turf is never as good as taking the fight directly to them."

There were still too many Imperials out there, even with the fall of the Empire in the Core, the Confederacy was still lingering.

It itched at her and Mercy... was not good at letting an itch lie.

"Why do you fight at my side, Mercy? There are a million battles to be fought. You could carve a bloody path through the galaxy without me…But you stay, even when it does not benefit you."

"If it is for the sake of my Quinn or the Covenant—Your point has been made."

"You are strong. I am aware. You need not feel…Obligated."

Mercy was quiet in the immediacy of those questions. It was something she herself had wondered, briefly, while smoking her pipe or having a drink. Just briefly, because too much introspection was bad for the soul.

"Do you remember the Echani concept of battle-sisters?" Mercy finally said after a moment more. "Those whose souls beat to the same rhythm when the blood lust is high?"

She licked her lips before taking a sip from her ale.

"I never understood it, until we fought together. I never knew that fighting with someone can provide so much joy."

The mountain did not know if it would last. She had been fighting alone for most of her life. The struggle, the conflict, it was all she knew. But for the time being, it was pleasant and Mercy was bad at denying herself pleasing things.

 

[Aerik Lechner]

Wearing: This | Weapons: Lightsaber | Knife
TAG: Skadi Lightbane | Irina Jesart | Torvald​

Torvald was drunk.

Aerik was drunk.

His gaze kept drifting toward the treeline where the girls had wandered toward. Torvald seemed to have his eyes on a stout and voluptuous woman that looked like she could even make Darth Carnifex tap out.

He scratched at his jaw. The scar still itched a little, but he was so inebriated it was beginning to become less and less annoying. All he knew was that two of the people which were closer to him than most were absent. There was nothing like mead to make one feel lonely even among good company.

The pup found himself walking toward them. He tried to listen in on what they were talking about, but Irina had moved them far enough away that their voices were just muffled and mixed in with the rest of the background noise.

“Smart.”

His speech was slurred enough that it made him chuckle.

“Oh now that’s funny Aerik Lechner… you really are drunk!”

He was talking to himself. That was a new thing. Maybe this was the reason his mother had told him to behave after the first invasion of Brosi. He had met Skadi that night, and decidedly did not do as his mother told him. She saw the mead and drug him right back to the table where the pair had gotten caught up in the games of the second legion.

Aerik did not intend to behave tonight.

When he found them he could clearly see a tree bearing the scorch marks of something too recent to be damage from the battle.

“Dammit you two… not again.”

The typical stoic behavior from the pup was tossed out the window thanks to the mead. He was too drunk to care or even try to maintain the composure his mother and Quinn Varanin tried to instill in him. Both had told him something similar. It would make him a much better diplomat than his father.

Everyone had seemed to give up on Kole ever being able to contain his anger. His wolf bit as hard as its bark was loud. Vyra was perfect. She was always… perfect. Aerik was the moon. Kole was the sun. Vyra would always be the sky between them and the space they occupied. She would know exactly how to handle the situation between the girls, but Aerik was not Vyra.

“We are a pack. Get along.”

He grabbed Irina’s hand before taking Skadi’s with the other. Without any warning he pulled them back toward the revelry, laughing as he did.

“I want to dance with both of you. C’mon.”

Aerik was silent for a moment as he stumbled forward a little, but what he wanted to say finally came to him.

“Rin… you’re fire,” he squeezed her hand. “And Skadi you’re ice.” He squeezed her hand also. “I need you both. Rin you push me. Skadi… you keep me from hurting everyone I love. You make me safe.”

 

[Lirka Ka]

TAGS: Neryn Ka

Unpredictability allowed for that brief moment of misery shared from a creature that by all rights, didn’t deserve to still exist. Lirka had damned herself long ago with forbidden lore and repulsive delving that had turned her body into a rebellion against the natural order. She had suffered for it - but suffering was strength to one who walked the Dark Path.

Her degradation was apart of her very being, the ephemeral nature of her flesh had become a welcomed cycle of decay and rebirth. Perhaps not unlike what Brosi itself become apart of. And vicariously, she lived that cycle through those she formed her genetic stock - her children, her golems of meat and bone so carefully crafted and yet so haphazardly thrown into the wild agony of a Galaxy in darkness. Neryn just so happened to be (luckily, or unluckily) the newest of that stock.

Of course - Lirka did everything very consciously. She knew exactly what those brief moments of approval birthed within the minds of her spawn. She had done it time and time again, when Nova had been an active piece within the grand Dejarik board of Galactic existence it was approval that was allowed to be the carrot upon a stick that kept her creations at least moderately predictable. Though for all her cold and heartless approaches to those she dubbed children. Lirka understood herself well enough too. Lirka adored herself more than anything, and what better way to appease her own existence than creating copies and deviations of her perfect form?

“That is good. You will oft be thought ill of. Be it for relation to mineself, or for the deviation of our existence from the standard of Sith existence. You will find power in their scornful gaze, in time.”

The reality of that was always a questionable situation. Lirka saw hateful eyes where none existed, though certainly she carried herself in such a way where disdain was far from unearned for her rampant and genocidal butchery. Perhaps he would share of those proficiencies and penchants for hyper-violence, certainly her newest killer had inherited Lirka’s spirit as a bully. It was the natural right of the strong to torment the weak, after all.

She grinned beneath her helm. Lirka did keep quite the dossier of the many variables who influenced her calculus. Allies, enemies, and how often the two were one and the same when all was said and done. Normally she’d keep her opinions to herself, but in this moment of victory what harm was there in singing the praises of the victors and notating who she considered a more dangerous knife than the other.

“Ever flowing are the names, but, stand outs remain.”

Slit lense, and unnaturally dyed eye now glazed over the party goers as Lirka began her notations.

“ Darth Strosius - the paramount foe. Chainbreaker. Zealot. Foolhardy. Tenacious in stupidity and resilience alike. His existence is in opposition to our own: for his holy texts are the words of a fool that might call himself a freedom fighter. Do not underestimate the Lord of Wonosa, Spawn. Remember that mask, and for now…avoid it. I doubt he would look kindly upon any who share the name Ka.”

It was no real secret that the two didn’t get on well. She had fought Strosius even before he had become the Lord he was today. Remembering those moments before her long disappearance from Imperial space, where she the pleasure of beating the boy’s face in with his own mask…

Good times. Nostalgic, really.

“The others within the assembly? Variables on the board, certainly. But they are unlikely to be within your calculus yet - you are too young for politics. The murderous politicking of the Sith is only learned through experience, yet I can impart on you another simple truth. Look to those who have earned rank, the Darths, the Councillors, give them the glance most wary. You are within the shield of mine-own-title for now, but I do not coddle. The mightiest of lords offer great rewards for their contentment, yet bring upon you ruin if the opposite occurs.”

She had spent plenty of time keeping within the good-enough graces of Darth Carnifex certainly to end up where she stood today. The path of evil always began in the shadow cast by another, is what Lirka had come to assess.

“Simple, ultimately. Except for when it isn’t.”

​

​

 

[Srina Talon]

TAG: Mercy
LOCATION: Near the Fire "Celebrating"...But distant enough to watch the Drakes fly.

____________________________________________________

"Mm, I know you do."

Who wouldn’t?

The only Imperial quotient in the galaxy that seemed to represent the word it stood for were the members of the Commonwealth that dwelled primarily within the borders of the Sith Order. They were prime examples of authority and order, with Ivalyn Yvarro at the helm, who had quite frankly spoiled her throughout their long partnership. She had grown used to pragmatism and thoughtful behavior—Rather than the chaotic antics of children with unfettered access to WMD’s.

“We will.”

The response was confident, though the decision was also resting in the hands of her Dark Councilors. Her word was law, but she did her best not to become an unreasonable tyrant. She did not believe it was the duty of the people of the Southern Systems to die for her cause, regardless of how they felt about it. She called the Sith to defend Brosi…Which—They obliged with fervor. It was an entirely different scenario to call on them to attack. Not because she would need to cajole them…

But because eventually she would need to rein them in.

“It is not a matter of if…Only when. I grow weary of being poked with a dull stick.”

She did not outwardly react to the Star Arm being so close, but she could feel the Noćna Mora that called her body home growl and huff a plume of smoke and fire. It didn’t seem to mind when Mercy was close during battle, but it did mind, when all the world was quiet. There was nothing to distract it and it took an almost exhausting amount of effort to keep it at bay. Some things could be fought and killed with brute strength, then, there were the Devourers.

Mercy was hungry.

The Mora were ravenous.

“You are too reckless.”, she murmured, not for the first time, and gave a soft sigh while she was forced to put the beast back in the cage. The Noćna Mora that Darth Prazutis had brought forward from the depths were younger, smaller, if that could be believed, than the creature she had swallowed in setting Naedira Darcrath free. It was the first. Uniquely self-aware, violent, and powerful to the point that if she took on its shape…Srina wasn’t certain she would come back. “One day you’ll get your wish…”

But she would disappear. Did Mercy realize that?

“If you want me dead—You should have let me die.”

Her eyes fell to Kala'anda and remained glued to the Staff of Ascension while her thoughts began to wander to places that were far too emotional by half. She didn’t have the time to consider that, through the theft of this object by her daughter, she could have lost one of the last remaining pieces of the man she had married. Not the Sith…The man. She had recovered from Coruscant as if it had never happened because there hadn’t been time to sit around and sort the pain it evoked.

The confusion.

Her mask stayed on, complete, but there was a storm behind the façade that was just waiting to make itself known in the worst possible way. It wouldn’t explode out of her against her will, but she would use that emotional dissidence as strength. She would turn it into cruel, cold fire. Until it burned everything that she was away, and she felt nothing at all.

Mercy pulled her focus away from the living weapon and instead brought her, surprisingly, to Echani culture. That was a subject that was easy for her to understand and relate to. Lengths of white-gold hair fell over her arms while her eyes shifted back toward the Titan, barely noticing, how she inhaled her food, other than the conscious decision to nudge her tankard of ale back toward Mercy again.

A sip wasn’t enough to wash all that shrapnel down.

“We would not be considered traditional…”

True battle-sisters were a rarity, even on a planet full of female warriors…And no part of them matched in the traditional sense. The cultural history Mercy spoke of was not a bond defined solely by bloodlust but by discipline and a mirrored philosophy. Control. The ability to read one another, completely, through motion alone. It took Srina a moment of consideration, but eventually, she concluded that Mercy was translating the concept into the only language she might be able to understand.

Srina matched Mercy in ruthless escalation. The pale sovereign didn’t break under pressure, didn’t recoil from the violence, but more importantly, didn’t attempt to control her. The words made it seem like Mercy had always fought alone, but this, two storms colliding in the same direction, with joy in shared destruction…It must have felt like a revelation.

"I never understood it, until we fought together. I never knew that fighting with someone can provide so much joy."

Srina remained silent, but it wasn’t the awkward kind that might drive someone to leave. For anyone who knew her beyond the crown, it would only take a moment to realize that she was mentally moving through the conversation, slowly, until she was satisfied. “Not at all traditional…But…I have felt it.”

The difference.

Fighting beside someone often required calculation, guarding flanks, accounting for ambition, and watching for betrayal. Throughout Coruscant and Brosi…Srina had not felt the need to keep herself safe from Mercy, not once, and the thought hadn’t even occurred to her to try. It was a strange conundrum considering their affiliation and upbringing…But no part of her saw Mercy as a threat.

That was surprising and probably a sign of insanity.

“So…Is that how I ought to think of you? Battle-sister?”

 

[Neryn Ka]

Neryn twisted his head back and forth in an emphatically negative gesture, causing his mane of bone-white hair to whip around.

Why, the very nerve of these chattel. Already, he was picking out who he'd slay first, if the chance came. Lirka Ka had quite succeeded in goading him into a murderous frenzy, and it was all he could do to restrain his desire to burn and maim. His form visibly shimmered with internal heat, causing a distortion-mirage effect on his surroundings.

Darth Strosius. He committed that name to memory. Perhaps one day, he would deliver this Chainbreaker's head to the Creator, with or without the accompanying flesh. This man must truly be abhorrent to earn so special a mention on their list of enemies, a great and terrible foe indeed, a true paragon of dark and unbreakable power. As cunning as he was dreadfully mighty.

Neryn knew, in that moment, what his destiny was. To break the Breaker and claim his place in Sith legend forevermore.

He didn't let certain facts (such as not knowing what the man looked like) shatter his delusional fantasies. Many obstacles stood on his pathway to glory, and he would not know their names or faces either until the time came.

At his core, Neryn was as unpredictable and as destructive as the liquid fire that seethed through his veins. It was difficult (if not impossible) for him to see the universe through any lens other than destruction and consumption. Things were to be destroyed or not to be destroyed, and the latter list was a great deal shorter than the former.

"Worry not, Creator-Mother. I am certain that I will crush this fool and those who shield him."

Neryn had no title of his own, no mighty "Darth" prefix. Part of him did not desire one, for tradition was just another thing for the flames to consume. He cared not for accolades, respect, or fear. Only ash.

After all, he and the Creator were anything but traditional. They were living insults to thousands of years of proud doctrines and dogmas. What was one more?

Still, he did not disregard the Creator's words entirely. If even one as mighty as she advised caution, then caution would be had. After several long moments, his heat subsided, cooling the surrounding area by quite a few degrees. As he was told, cowards won battles. It would be wiser to isolate the schemers one by one, rather than all at once.

Of course, none of these people knew or cared who he was, but Neryn didn't let this clear and obvious truth get in the way of his classical Ka paranoia.

"It grates upon my pride to consider kowtowing before any of these... people, but if you say it is wise, then I will do my best to curry favor with some of them." He said with a nod almost as exaggeratedly-energetic as his shake of the head had been.

 

[Mercy]

Srina Talon

In truth it wasn't about being reckless, even if, yes... Mercy was that too.

She simply didn't realize what the risk was each time her golden arm came into contact with Srina.

The question was, of course, would Mercy have stopped if she did know? Or would she have trusted that Srina could handle herself, that she wouldn't succumb to a demon, even one that lived under her skin? It was tough to say. Mercy, in the best of days, wasn't someone who was particularly careful about her own safety much less those of others. And she herself had experience with creatures living under her skin or trying to influence her... she had broken their spine all the same.

“If you want me dead—You should have let me die.”

"Come now, darling, why ever would you say that?" Mercy cooed softly, head angled as she took her in. "I would not spill my valuable blood to bring you back to life, if I wanted you dead."

She didn't say the obvious either: if she wanted someone dead, they would be.

Mercy indeed didn't mind the silence.

Hell, she thrived in it, the subtle communications cues that bodies expressed. The angle of the jaw, the shift in shoulders, the tension in the hips. Mercy often believed that people talked too much, but said too little. Which made it more than ironic how much of a yapper she had become. Often in battle, a crude application of Dun Möch, to coax people into making mistakes.

But Mercy smiled - a smile that was far more genuine than anything Srina had ever seen before, when the fellow Empress confirmed that she, too, had felt the same sort of connection.

“So…Is that how I ought to think of you? Battle-sister?”

"I do believe you need one." Her normal hand reached out, light touch, before moving to curl into the back of Srina's head, drawing her in until Mercy's lips pressed against the Echani's cheek.

A soft kiss pressed there.

"A sister who cares, who desires nothing from you but your presence. Who you can shed blood with without having to worry about the sacrifice and toll it takes on the people you claimed as yours."

Her grip tightened ever so slightly into her hair, firm, her voice right against Srina's flesh without concern for propriety or modesty.

"What say you... sisters?"

 

[Irina Jesart]

Aerik Lechner Skadi Lightbane Torvald

When Skadi turned away attempting to fold herself behind a neutral expression, Irina realised her reaction had caused damage. She was better than this, she had always been better than this. Control was everything. Yet whenever Aerik was involved she seemed to lose her grip on her emotions.

“Skadi,” she said softly reaching for the womans arm, “I am sorry, I didn’t mean…I’m not angry at you, I’m just-”

“We are a pack. Get along.”

Aerik was there, between them, the small of mead strong on him as he grabbed both their hands pulling them along. “Aerik.” her tone carried an edge, her anger rising. Why couldn’t he have told her? It wasn’t like they hadn’t had time for conversation in the biodome, they’d had plenty. As the words spilled from his mouth, drunk and honest she felt something in her heart twist.

He needed both of them.

Irina stopped walking, digging her heels in to stop them moving forward, her eyes shifting from him and then to Skadi. “I need…time.” she said to Skadi, “to process…to understand…I’m not…” She looked back at Aerik, folding the confusion and hurt back behind a mask as she forced a smile. “You are drunk. You should enjoy yourself,” her gaze flicked back to Skadi “Both of you. Right now I am not the company you keep when you want to enjoyment.”

She stepped forward to place a kiss on his cheek, gently working her hand out of his.

“I’m going back to the Vigfjall. Skadi will dance with you.”

Irina cast another look at Skadi, offering what she hoped was a reassuring smile before turning away, her heart heavy as she walked back through the campfires.

 

[Varin Mortifer]

VARIN MORTIFER

Equipment: Durum Mantle | Black Blade of Chandrila | Eye of The Dragon | Heavy Sith Mace​

“You are likely correct about that. But Coruscant also adds numerous opportunities. Coruscant itself is not a main focus. Not in my opinion. It’s the surrounding areas. One less place for the Galactic Empire to hide, one step closer to their eradication. If Coruscant is destroyed then let the rocks float away. It’s all that it was before.”

He picked up his mug as she spoke of not drinking, a small scoff leaving him, not one of mockery more of amusement.

“I used to be the same. Turns out, the effects vary for me. My body usually breaks it down and works the process faster than most, but there are some that give me trouble. This,”

He gently raised the mug then lowered it back down.

“It's just juice to me. But I understand some peoples sentiments towards it, it can make people sloppy, belligerent, careless and…loud.”

His eye fell on some individuals who had indulged in too much mead and other substances as they laughed and tripped over one another.

His attention came back to her when she spoke of the different jobs she took up with the different factions, even nearly working for the Imperials.

His finger tapped his mug for a moment at that thought, then she asked about him.

“A lot of traveling. Though my loyalty lies with The Sith Order, The Sith Covenant has taken most of my attention. Traveling between both academies from Korriban to Desevro, then now to Brosi to catch up with my master.”

A long deep exhale left him as his shoulders slumped.

“It’s been nonstop.”

He gave her an exhausted soft smile.

Reina Daival​

 

[Quinn Varanin]

//: Lunaria Talon //: Revna Marr //:

Quinn listened to the girl. The story told only amplified, confirming the familiar whisper in the Force she had felt. There was a part of her that she had felt him again, maybe a childish hope that he wasn't upset with her. Quinn kept her smile as she nodded along, understanding that Luna didn't understand what she had done.

This also explained the winter's chill that stung in the Force.

Their mother was furious.

Knowing this and now fully understanding the situation, her features softened. It was at this moment that she broke every rule that was set between them. She knew this was a danger, but the risk —somehow to comfort her younger sister—it was worth it.

Suddenly, her full attention was now on Lunaria. Gentle fingers threaded through the girl's snow-white hair, pushing it back. Those same fingers lightly touched the curve of the girl's face; there was a delicateness that could only be shared between them.

Luna gave Quinn a glimpse of motherhood, as their mother — Srina — was young when she took Quinn into her care. Quinn looked upon the younger Echani with reverence.

"You did well," Her voice soft in a way only Luna would know. It was the same tone that Luna would have heard as a child, scared by a story her brother told her and seeking comfort.

Another brush against her hair as Quinn sought to comfort the girl in the only way she knew. It was the same way Srina would comfort her; they were Echani, and touch was far more meaningful than words.

"Don't look down, be proud of your accomplishments, pitya min.." the young Queen whispered to the girl.

Quinn smiled as she nodded, letting the care and pride bleed through the gentle pets. Looking to Revna, Quinn nodded.

"It's been some time since I've seen Artemis, and I don't think we've met before. I'd like to hear about this harrowing rescue of my favorite student."

Nodding, she continued to smile. "Quinn is perfectly fine. I appreciate the question."

 

[Lirka Ka]

TAGS: Neryn Ka

She did not bother the boy with the unpredictable intricacies of it all yet. For now she would simply enjoy all the wrath emanating from a creature that knew not where to place the aggression forced upon it yet - Strosius was an easy pick, a constant. A predictable variable that would always stand in opposition to herself. It was an anchor, a foundational element to lay the bedrock for her fledgling to understand.

New foes would appear, in time. Those who were her allies today easily could become her enemies tomorrow. The Sith ate themselves alive when desperation presented it. In this moment, they relished in victory and the unstoppable might of an Empire that had yet to taste true defeat. But when that hammer fell? When the flames of defeat and the sorrow of failure licked at their hearts? Well. Lirka generally thought the worst of things.

For now? She laughed. The pride of a Ka presented itself already. In those parts of her still vaguely connected to her own humanity - there was a certain nostalgic fondness that came from witnessing the naivety of it all. A mind unburdened, a creature fresh from the vat still grasping to understand the Galaxy it found itself in. It had been many years since she had a spawn as fresh as Neryn - a rare motherly treat to show the boy the way, and the first steps upon their Dark Path.

“In time, perhaps. The Lord of Wonosa dabbles in his own affairs for now - there are matters more pressing than the trifling of rodents.”

Matters of power and prestige, the galaxy was churning to war. And war was grossly profitable - Lirka had every intention to reap the benefits of the coming tide. The metaphorical hornet nest of Sith existence was buzzing after the second strike on Brosi. Kindling that only needed a spark to ignite.

And she was looking at her next piece to add to that fire. The clarion call of hyperviolence was beckoning, and such a place was the crucible upon which true monsters were born.

Her humor as quickly as it came, disappeared. She leaned to her child now, a certain softness in her voice that held no warmth, only a razors edge.

“Oh yes, it will grate. And you will seethe, and you will writhe. You will feel the anger bubbling within you as they discount you. A hound. A dog. My dear Neryn, freshest of Spawn, from the day I took you from the vat within which I built you. You were blessed with the birthright of dirt.”

There was a certain passion behind the words of a creature that tormented a Galaxy from a mixture of lofty arrogance and writhing self loathing all the same. Suffering built greatness, and she’d demand a Ka suffer.

“For now, you are nothing. Just another monster in a vast and endless menagerie. Let your pride be chafed, let that fire within you simmer till you can no longer control it. Soon, The Moment will arrive for you. Then, let the flame loose. That moment where you will take your first sentient life. Cherish it. Relish it. We who feel death by blade-in-hand. Once you have killed, the path will reveal itself to you to become something.”

Death made the Galaxy turn. No great Lord got to where they stood within a mountain of bodies to herald their ascent. The first kill was an important one - a thing to be savored. For after the next thousand, they all became duller and duller.

​

​

 

[Srina Talon]

TAG: Mercy
LOCATION: Near the Fire "Celebrating"...But distant enough to watch the Drakes fly.

____________________________________________________

"Come now, darling, why ever would you say that?"

Srina swallowed a groan and buried her face into her arms, exasperated, but unable to fully communicate what was driving her toward the edge of her sanity. The answer was obvious. “You keep waving that damnable arm around…”, she returned, ignoring the unspoken threat. She was very much aware that the Titan thought very highly of herself, to the point where she assumed the Sith Empress would fail if they clashed. She didn’t seem to realize that during their little skirmishes, the diminutive woman hadn’t been trying to kill her. Merely, wound her.

It had initially stemmed from her relationship with Quinn Varanin that was none of her business.

All she knew was that Mercy mattered.

That was enough.

She grumbled in the silence that followed and slowly nibbled on her rabbit food while thinking it over. The woman at her side didn’t rush her, and that, she appreciated. Everyone always wanted an answer in the most immediate way. Impatient. Strangely…Mercy seemed to take her time where the Echani was concerned. When she finally agreed, of course, it wasn’t without a bit of aggression.

Srina was starting to learn it was just her way.

“I have a few…the rest are all…”

Dead.

Bibi was her favorite among the siblings she had left, outside of Var Talon, but it was only because of how strangely intuitive the youngling could be. She had a heart full of things, dreams, which was something Srina had long ago abandoned. She had the life she wished her children had been given. Privileged—Spoiled. Her hands were soft because the only fighting Bibiana had ever done outside of the Military Academy was ceremonial. She was loved—And she loved freely in return.

It was good that she was sequestered on Eshan.

Safe from all this.

Mercy was partially right, however. Tellu was the only one who had ever really understood her need to stay among the stars rather than returning home. Even that had taken doing, her death, and the acceptance of raising her daughter into adulthood. She had no living sisters who cared and wouldn’t think twice about ripping the head of the enemy clean from their shoulders. They were all warriors to varying degrees…But they had the wrong temperament. They couldn’t do this.

They wouldn’t be able to touch lengths of hair that were still stained pink from every Imperial she’d bled dry without flinching. Echani were honed for combat…But they were honorable for the most part.

The kiss to her cheek mollified anything snarky she might have had to say. Instead…Her expression shifted and became a little less stern. For all of her social ineptitude, she was very aware that this was how Mercy expressed care. Perhaps, in the way a King cared for his favorite horse—But it was care all the same. She was right. She wouldn’t have spilled her own blood to bring back someone she hated.

Not even if they were good in the ring.

The grip in her hair tightened, and Srina reached up to slowly pry her hand away and drew it down into her own for a moment. “You have sauce on your fingers.”

“Sister.”

Srina reached for a cloth, dipped it in a little water, and began to slowly clean the invisible remnants of her dinner away. Her hair slipped in her face while she worked, but she didn’t pull away, unbothered by the closeness. As frightening as some found her, Srina believed that Mercy would not harm her. There was something about the way they fought together that was simple and freeing. Not having to think about her next move or that of her partner…It was rare. Only one other had been capable of that.

As if on cue, the Staff of Ascension began to activate, the dragon's eyes glowing, and the pale woman reached out to touch it. Softly…It calmed. It almost felt…

Jealous?

Her eyebrows drew together, but she didn’t investigate any further. It was probably still thrumming from interaction with her daughter and her student, or the wellspring. She would have to check it thoroughly once she got back to Jutrand. Regardless…She turned her attention back to Mercy—reaching for her other hand. The golden one. Sisters sacrificed for one another, did they not?

“I don’t know if I can control it once it’s free. It is the Alpha…The first Devourer ever made. It is so entwined…It is like fighting myself. If it awakens…I will not be Srina Talon anymore. I am it…”

“It is me.”

The explanation harkened back to their earlier conversation while she took pains to make sure the golden hand that was connected to the golden arm gleamed in the slowly turning evening firelight. The words were an admission of weakness, of vulnerability, which many other Sith would use to discredit or destroy her. It meant that by her own admission, she was not all-powerful.

By her own admission, she was flawed.

“…the Star-Arm brings it to the surface more than anything else.”

Her expression was one of focus, almost to the point of pain. The more she focused on the golden arm…The worse it got. The closer she held it, the worse it got.

Until her eyes became fire and her breath became smoke…

 

[Neryn Ka]

Indeed, Neryn was seething. He'd been seething since day one. His first sensation the minute his brain had flickered into consciousness was pain, the pain of his broken body and boiling blood. Even now, it was ever-present.

The second sensation, coming mere instants later, was unshackled rage, a rage that only seemed to dim when he was pulling pieces off of something living.

Like Lirka Ka , he was a ruined and terrible form of life, a thing that shouldn't exist in any universe. His physical corruption manifested in different ways, and he lacked her hard-won perspective and cunning, but at his core, the two couldn't be more alike.

A couple of faint pops emitted from under his mask, the sound of his delicate jaw unhinging and restructuring to make room for new, flesh-ripping teeth. Her words were having the desired effect, for Neryn was hanging at the end of a very thin and very inadequate chain. He was angry enough now that he was beginning to fail to keep his body together, his concentration disrupted by the sheer intensity of his fury.

"Oh, I will change that, Creator-Mother." He managed after a few moments, voice tight with barely-repressed murder. "I will paint a path of gore across this universe until that changes, of that you can be certain. None will dare to utter the words 'Neryn Ka', lest they call the devil by naming him."

The blade-claws at the thumb joints of his wings flexed irritably, lashing the air as if seeking victims of their own accord. Was his glory not manifestly true enough? His omnipotence doubted? Unacceptable.

These and a thousand other childish power fantasies chased themselves through his diseased little mind, each more exaggerated than the last. Of course, Neryn likely lacked the longsuffering spirit and will to see it through, but who knew what the future might hold?

For now he was young, aggressively stupid, and eager to prove himself. Still, he did have power, albeit directionless and poorly-restrained. He couldn't wait for the day when gatherings like this would be held in his honor, when idols would be erected in his image.

"Then point me towards my enemies, that I may make them sacrifices in your name, oh Creator-Mother." He oozed, regressing back for an instant to instinctive sycophancy. "I am eager and willing to make the extent of my power terribly clear."

This back-and-forth between grandstanding power-madness and fawning displays of loyalty was, for better or worse, Neryn's way. He chafed and bit at his leash, as angry and as dangerous as he was clueless.

 

[Reina Daival]

Tag: Varin Mortifer
Objective:

"It makes for numerous opportunities, yes. But not all of those are positive opportuinities. You say that coruscant is not the main focus. Yet, if you want to keep it, it should be. The Galactic Alliance moved their capital from Coruscant to Fondor, and not long following that, they happen to lose the Core. A coincidence? I'd say not."

Reina gave a slight suck on her teeth in frustration as Varin spoke about how much that alcohol was basically juice to him. She missed the days where she could just binge on the stuff without feeling nary any of the effects. But alas, those days had been snatched away from her when someone had thought it would be best for Reina to manipulate and alter her species. It was something she was trying to put behind her, but of course that was far easier said than done. Instead her attention turned towards his talk of travelling, a small smirk playing on her face afterwards.

"You'll get used to the travelling sooner or later. It took me a while to get used to it. From Naboo, to Mandalore, to the locations I was hired for the Sith. I've cut Naboo out of my transport schedule...but it's still a fair bit of travelling. I might check out this academy on Desevro. Not that I'd sign up for it, I'm above that."

She gave a slight dismissive wave of that. Reina was above the levels of being a Padawan and an Acolyte. It might not have ever been an official thing for her, but the moment Reina had left the Jedi, she had deemed herself as ready to be some form of Knight. And so that had been what she was. A wandering Knight who has only just settled her blade down. Not in the name of the Sith, but in the name of Varanin. Specifically that of Quinn, but in a way, Reina would take orders from any of the Varanin family.

"You've said you've been moving non-stop though? Well...Let's go for a walk."

Yet another smirk came to her face as Reina couldn't help herself from being a bit snarky, pushing herself up to her feet. She could use the exercise at least, to let her keep her mind off things.
​

 

[Skadi Lightbane]

Tags: Irina Jesart // Aerik Lechner ​

At first, it would seem that Irina and Skadi would share another moment where perhaps they would get to better understand each other. Irina seemed apologetic by her reaction, and had reached for Skadi’s arm, saying how she hadn’t been angry at Skadi - but she never got the chance to finish her sentence.

Because that was when the man of their mutual discussions decided to appear from the shadows, the smell of mead heavy upon him.

For perhaps the first time, Skadi found herself to be a bit…irritated…with the young man. Couldn’t he have just stayed with the old wolf, Torvald? And let her have this moment with Irina?? But he was here now, and in his drunken state, he said the words that were on the tip of his tongue, without having the filter to think on if they were wise to say or not in the moment.

At least it revealed the raw honest side of himself that he kept locked away behind his typically stoic mask.

After telling them both to get along, (which earned him a glare), Aerik reached for both Irina and Skadi’s hands. He tried to pull them back towards the fire, towards the celebrations, and made it clear to both young women that he…wanted to dance with both of them??

He stumbled for a moment, caught himself, and murmured the obvious that Rin was fire and Skadi was ice - and repeated himself the very words Skadi had just told Irina moments prior, that he needed them both.

Irina chose that point to dig her heels in, resisting Aerik’s pull. Her voice was sharp when she called his name, and Skadi watched the scene unfold with a quiet and somewhat somber observation. How many times had she seen a similar interaction back on Toola, with drunk men wanting to interact with their women?

For a startling moment, she felt like she was back home…minus the snow and ice on the ground.

Irina stopped Aerik from pulling her along, and cast a glance at Skadi - who found it difficult to meet her gaze.

“I need time.” Irina said, to the Valkyri first. She knew that Skadi would understand what was being said. “to process…to understand…I’m not…”

She was hurt, and confused. And Skadi felt responsible for it. “Just…come find me when you are ready, Irina. I will explain what I was trying to say. Just…don’t burn me please…” Skadi managed to murmur, before Irina turned her focus on Aerik, telling him he was drunk and that he should go back to the fire and enjoy himself, before she looked back at Skadi and told her to do the same.

But I want you there with us too… came the quiet whisper through Skadi’s mind, though she couldn’t find the courage to say those words aloud. Irina stepped forward and placed a chaste kiss on Aerik’s cheek as she freed her hand from his.

“I’m going back to the Vigfjall. Skadi will dance with you.”

Guilt coiled within the Valkyri’s chest; she didn’t want to enjoy a dance with Aerik if Irina couldn’t also do the same. She felt like she was taking him from her… again.

Irina cast one last glance at Skadi and gave her a smile that was reassuring, almost as if she could sense the turmoil within Skadi. Then she was gone, disappearing through the darkness and leaving Skadi alone with a drunk Aerik, her hand still in his own.

“I need a drink. Right now.” Skadi murmured, her voice almost a growl. She wanted something to soften the tightness that made her on edge, make the moment that had just happened a fuzzy memory.

 

[Mercy]

Srina Talon

“You keep waving that damnable arm around…”

Eyebrows lifted up at that and she glanced back towards her golden arm.

It had not occurred to her it was its existence that was constantly coaxing out the fire spirit within Srina. She had naturally assumed it was all of her, all at once, that elicited such a reaction. Mercy was a fiery creature, after all, a monster. A beast. Violence was in her veins, malice dripping down her teeth, it would be natural for the nightmare within Srina to feel a little territorial when a predator came knocking.

It made her thoughtful, but it did not change her behavior in the slightest. There were reasons for that.

“I have a few…the rest are all…”

Dead.

"The Galaxy is a harsh place." Mercy said gently, that gentle quality that was not often found. "Harsher still to those who deserve it least." She herself had lost her entire family and their whole line when Carnifex came down and glassed Tion out of existence.

Nobody knew.

Because Mercy didn't care enough to tell anyone. She had long since abandoned her family and her only desire had been was to return one day. To show her mother that she had made something out of herself. Something beyond the Imperial Line of Tion. That she herself was powerful. And then she would have killed them all.

For ever doubting her, sealing that picture into the freeze of eternity.

The grip in her hair tightened, and Srina reached up to slowly pry her hand away and drew it down into her own for a moment. “You have sauce on your fingers.”

“Sister.”

Srina reached for a cloth, dipped it in a little water, and began to slowly clean the invisible remnants of her dinner away.

Mercy blinked and was about to make a snarky comment, but then she quieted down. First at being addressed as sister... even if she had started it and then by Srina gently beginning to clean her hand.

It was a good thing Srina's vision was obscured by her hair, otherwise she would have witnessed eyes growing a touch wide. She had not experienced this gentle nature in... such... a long time. Long enough Mercy had forgotten what it was like to be cared for. Long enough she didn't think that sensation would ever please her.

"Battle-Sisters... take care of each other above everything else. Always." Mercy finally said, quietly, as she watched Srina take her golden hand next. The one she had just admitted hurt her just by proximity.

"But you surprise me, darling..." Mercy continued after listening to Srina's theory on what the consequences would be of allowing the spirit to rip out. "To think I have a higher opinion of you, than you yourself." She leaned in there again, running her nose along her temple. "You will always be you. No Alpha can hold you back..."

Then a smile.

"But you have your sister at your side now, do you not? What more do you need to challenge this nightmare? We can face it, now, or later... but together. I have subjugated my demons... I can assist you in doing the same to yours."