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

[Aerik Lechner]

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

"You are drunk. You should enjoy yourself."

Aerik gave a short breath of a laugh at that, lifting his hands slightly as if conceding the point without argument. The warmth of the mead still sat heavy in his veins, leaving the crooked grin on his face slow and easy.

Irina stepped closer.

Her lips brushed against his cheek.

The contact caught him off guard just long enough that he blinked once as she pulled away.

"Skadi will dance with you."

Aerik's eyes shifted briefly toward Skadi, the grin lingering though confusion had begun to creep quietly into the corners of it as he tried to follow the meaning of the moment through the comfortable haze of alcohol.

By the time he looked back, Irina was already turning away, her figure slipping between the fires and shadows of the celebration.

For a second he simply stood there, the warmth of the kiss still lingering faintly against his cheek as he watched her disappear through the fires.
Beside him Skadi shifted, her voice breaking the moment.

"I need a drink. Right now."

Aerik blinked and looked over at her, the crooked grin he had carried into the moment beginning to fade as the meaning of Irina's departure settled slowly through the haze of mead.
He gave a small nod.

"Aye," he muttered, letting out a slow breath through his nose. "That sounds about right."

He gave her hand a light tug toward the firelight and the waiting barrels of mead.

Yet even as he turned with her, his gaze drifted once more toward the path Irina had taken, the furrow in his brow deepening slightly as the confusion began to settle in.

Aerik watched Irina disappear through the fires for longer than he probably should have. The warmth of the mead still sat heavy in his veins, but the easy grin he had carried into the moment had faded somewhere between her digging her heels into the dirt and the brief kiss she left on his cheek.

He did not immediately move.

His hand remained loosely around Skadi's, though the pull toward the celebration had long since stopped. For a moment he simply stared in the direction Irina had gone, brow faintly furrowed as if trying to piece together a puzzle that refused to settle.

One hand lifted and dragged slowly back through his hair.

Then he finally glanced sideways toward Skadi.

"Did I do something wrong?"

The question came out quieter than most things he said that night, the blunt honesty of it carrying none of the bravado that usually surrounded him.
He looked back toward the path Irina had taken, jaw tightening slightly as the confusion settled in.

"I only meant…" He exhaled through his nose, shaking his head once. "I thought it would make things easier."

His grip on Skadi's hand loosened a little, though he did not pull away.

"Why did she leave?"

 

[Varin Mortifer]

VARIN MORTIFER

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

“Do you always hold such pessimism?”

Varin responded to her with a smirk as he took another sip of his drink.

“I’m no fool, I know where to put my hope in, and my end goal differs from that of the Covenant and the Sith Order.”

The tree had started to come into view when he noticed the familiar figure standing at its base. Varin’s eye squinted as Reina asked who it was. Varin took a breath.

“Lord Lechner.”

He spoke at a volume that answered Reina’s question, and traveled to the Sith Lord. Varin had held high respect for the man ever since he had the opportunity to meet with him and even fight for him.

Varin stepped forward, leading Reina over to the Sith Lord who had seemed to be having a quiet moment. As he neared he stood straight with a hand behind his back almost at attention.

“It is a pleasure to see you again.”

He spoke deeply, quietly as he waited for the Wolf to speak back.

As was customary for Varin he would wait until he was spoken to by the man, offering him the chance to say his piece and engage in conversation. He looked over to Reina in silence, acknowledging both presences, and gave her a slow nod.

Reina Daival | Gerwald Lechner​

 

[Skadi Lightbane]

Direct Tag: Aerik Lechner
Other: Irina Jesart
​

It was clear to see that Aerik was confused by the situation unfolding before him. The easy grin on his face slipped away slowly as drunken confusion began to fill his eyes and face. Skadi felt her heart sink further into her chest, a stab of guilt that she caused this.

Her voiced desire for a drink seemed to break whatever warm haze was still gripping him. He blinked and looked at her, his smile fading further away. He gave a small nod and agreed, and gave her hand a light tug to have her follow him back to the fire.

But his gaze traced where Irina had disappeared into the darkness. He stopped walking altogether, seemingly lost in some thought. Skadi stopped with him, and watched him with growing guilt as his hand slowly loosened around her own.

He had never held her hand before, not like this. And she wished it was something she could have enjoyed, but all she felt was pain squeezing her heart. Sorrow, for saying something that had caused Irina to react, and for the very unfortunate timing Aerik had in stepping in to find them at odds.

For a long moment, neither of them moved. Aerik dragged a hand through his hair, before he finally glanced at Skadi, a deep frown creasing his brow.

"Did I do something wrong?"

His question came out quieter than it normally would have, and she felt another tight squeeze around her chest with the lack of certainty, of bravado, within his voice. She began to wonder if perhaps Aerik was the sort of happy go lucky drunk that became incredibly sad if something went wrong around them. She couldn’t bear to see it.

"I only meant…I thought it would make things easier."

His hand loosened further around hers, but he didn’t let go. "Why did she leave?" Skadi gently readjusted her hold on his hand, slipping her fingers between his, and gave his hand a gentle squeeze to draw his focus to her for a moment.

“Aerik…this is not your fault. I…it is mine, this time. I said some…things to her. And she did not take it very well. She left because she needed to think about what I told her, to…process it. It was not easy. You came upon us at the wrong time, is all. If you want to be upset at someone for what just happened...be upset at me. I caused this.”

She let her words settle between them for several moments, before she offered him a half smile, and a gentle but somewhat firmer tug back towards the direction of the fires and the mead and hopefully, towards something that would help lighten the mood. “Irina will be okay. Come, let us go back to the fire, ja?”

 

[Aerik Lechner]

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

Aerik listened while Skadi spoke, though the crease in his brow did not fade as easily as it might have on another night. The mead still warmed his blood, dulling the edges of the world around him, but not enough to keep her explanation from settling somewhere uneasy in his chest.

He glanced once more toward the darkness where Irina had disappeared between the fires.

“You said things,” he repeated slowly, as if testing the explanation against the moment he had just lived through.

The thought seemed to wobble slightly in the haze of drink.

“Maybe,” he muttered.

His eyes lingered on the path she had taken, the memory of her kiss still faintly warm against his cheek.

For a moment he looked as though he might actually follow.

His weight shifted in that direction before he stopped himself, dragging a hand through his hair as a quiet breath left him.

“If she needs time…” he began, the rest of the thought fading before it fully formed.

The celebration around them surged back into focus then. Laughter rolled across the fire circle. Someone shouted for another round. A burst of music rose from the other side of the camp.

Aerik blinked once and looked down at Skadi again.

“You said drink.”

The words came out more certain than anything else he had said since Irina left.

He gave her hand a brief squeeze before turning toward the nearest barrel of mead. One of the warriors nearby had already filled a row of rough clay mugs. Aerik reached for one without ceremony and lifted it in a loose salute toward no one in particular.

Then he drank.

It was not a polite sip, or even a steady pull.

He tipped the mug back and drained the whole thing in one long swallow, lowering it only when the last of it was gone. The empty cup thudded back onto the table beside the barrel.

Aerik exhaled sharply through his nose, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand as the warmth of the drink hit his stomach.

“Well,” he said, voice rough with the burn of it.

“I did not survive this war just to stand around sulking.”

The crooked grin returned, a little wilder than before as the mead reclaimed its hold on him.

Before Skadi could protest or agree, Aerik caught her by the hand again and pulled her toward the open space around the fire where the dancers had gathered.

“If Irina comes back,” he added over his shoulder as he drew her along, the thought clearly still tugging somewhere in the back of his mind, “then she can decide if she wants to scold me for drinking way too much!”

He turned back toward Skadi then, the grin widening slightly.

“But until then,” he said, giving her hand a playful tug toward the music, “you were promised a dance.”

 

[Lirka Ka]

TAGS: Neryn Ka

By every normal metric Lirka should’ve felt bad for bringing this creature’s cursed existence to life. All fire and rage molded into a form she had deemed suitable, unsustainable in so many ways. But, Lirka did not follow normal metrics, and cared little. Science did not wait, and she always could refine the process later - flesh was o’ so malleable after all. She had suffered biological burnout before and had reknit herself - if Neryn Ka proved a valuable variable once blood was spilt, she’d gift him the same courtesy.

She laughed, something that jumped between humor and pride. All that razor-edged tone disappearing as quickly as it arrived. Good. That was the right answer. Ambition and pride - that is what they had to sustain themselves in the domain of the Sith.

“In time, spawn-of-mine. In time. Opportunity for wanton slaughter will present itself soon enough - then we shall see your mettle tested.”

That most poignant question of all - what’s next? The possibilities swirled around Lirka’s head: in the grand scheme of it all, she had the ability to stake claim to conflict: while she may not have been able to rouse the entirety of the Empire to war, raiding was in their blood. But one did not become a Councillor without having a finger on the pulse of what was coming next.

“The rumblings of war are echoing across the Galaxy, we march headstrong into a new era of Darkness - an age of the Sith is upon us. And dominance will be proven through bloodshed. It is yet to be determined where we will strike next, Spawn. But when the clarion call of war sounds, be prepared. It will be soon, if my estimations are to be correct.”

Certainly, the Imperials stood not far away from them. Bloodied from their second attempt upon Brosi. Prime for the taking, certainly the Sith were owed their revenge. But the revenge of the Sith covered quite a few entities - and with the Jedi growing stronger, the inevitable conflict of Light and Dark bubbled in the horizon waiting to burst.

​

​

 

[Srina Talon]

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

____________________________________________________

…The galaxy was a harsh place…

It took all she had not to snort from the magnitude of the understatement that Mercy left her with. The pale woman didn't know the role that Darth Carnifex had played in slaughtering the larger woman's family on Tion—But she wouldn't blink. She had run roughshod on Tion not that long ago because it was one of the places that the Imperial Confederation held a port to call. Everyone had someone. Everyone was someone's son or daughter, and Srina had left her fair share of widows behind.

She was more restrained…But she was no better than Darth Carnifex or Darth Empyrean when it came down to raining down hell almighty. She had turned cities to crystal…Entire regions, planets, into mass graves. Who was she to bemoan the death of her siblings?

Srina could not bring them back to the land of the living.

But she could express her grief.

She could share the loss.

The diminutive Echani diligently made sure that Mercy's hands were clean after she'd wolfed down her dinner. There was a softness to it that bespoke of tending to hands much smaller while the cloth dabbed lightly around her nails and cuticles. The places where food and grime tended to stick. She didn't see Mercy's expression change, and by the time her hand raised to brush the silk curtain behind her ear…It was already gone. "There…", she murmured, taking a cursory look. "Better."

It was another thing entirely to deal with the Star Arm, offensive, that it was. The words that were offered about being Battle-Sisters felt distant and far off while Srina slowly went deaf to the world around them. She could feel the Devourer rising. Feel great wings of fire unfurl from some place along her spine, and her eyes settled on the appendage. It was a strange thing. To have so much power at her fingertips, but to also be humbled by nature.

By things that were beyond her control.

"It doesn't hold me back…"

When her gaze drew up toward Mercy, her eyes were not her own. These were…Wrong. Wreathed in flame with parts that were dark as pitch. Hollow. Srina was there and not there. "It reminds me that I am fallible. It helps me retain my sharpness and keeps me from becoming complacent. If I never stop fighting, I never stop training, and I will never be weak."

But there was risk.

If she stopped fighting and let the beast win…

The sensation of casual affection running along her temple drew her from her thoughts and thus away from the presence of the Devourer. She didn't pull away…But it was enough for her to settle back into the skin of the Empress she had somehow become. If someone had asked her in her youth what her path would have been…She would have been a soldier. Happily, so. It was all she had known while raising Quinn Varanin , and it had carried her through the ranks of the Confederacy.

There was not an ounce of royal blood in her body, no trace of nobility, save that which the Sepulchral had declared. The Order was founded on the premise that the Emperor or Empress was the beginning and the end of everything. Alpha and Omega. She could lead, command, and inspire…But she would always and forever feel out of place. The Order would eventually hate her for not hating them enough…The galaxy, would turn. It was inevitable.

She had to be ready when the day came.

"If only it were a demon…That would be much simpler."

Still. She recognized that Mercy was trying to be supportive in her own way and released her hold on the Star Arm so it could stop running along the edge of her mind. Inherently, looking for cracks in her psyche. "I wouldn't release it here. There are too many…Variables."

Too much potential for collateral damage.

"They are tremendous creatures in combat…But that is nothing to fear. It's what they take away without ever touching their opponent at all. They eat everything you are just by being in proximity."

They ate memory the way she breathed air, devoured, all that a person was until there was nothing left but a drooling shell. Or—They assimilated their prey. They reproduced infrequently, but they could create hybrids that were both food and puppet. Srina did not want the Sith Order exposed to one that had her power behind it, untamed, that could not easily be put back in the box. She was waiting for the day when she was pressed beyond all limits, and it emerged. "It was good that I died quickly on Coruscant. Before it could fight back…"

There would have been a whole new slew of problems, other than someone taking her daughter hostage. It was one thing for her youngling to lose control. She would always help pick up the pieces.

Srina would never have that luxury.

"Don't worry, sister. I will survive."

 

[Lunaria Talon]

Tag: Quinn Varanin | Revna Marr
__
_______​

"Don't look down, be proud of your accomplishments, pitya min.."

The soft reassurance from Quinn Varanin seemed to provide some sort of invisible ground to stand on. She had half expected to be scolded, again, because Srina Talon was so very angry with her. It was a rarity that anyone managed to get any sort of emotion from her mother, let alone one that was palpable in the back of her mind. Even though it had quieted…

Lunaria still felt the sting, the cold, and it hurt.

Her cheek leaned into the touch, butterfly soft, as a little bird on a perch, and her eyes closed for a long moment. She wasn’t normally such a basket case, but the way her mother responded had her on edge, and Haru ( Darth Carnifex ) was nowhere in sight. He had been planet-side, she was certain, but he hadn’t been there to translate when the Staff of Ascension returned to the Empress with a vengeance. She’d never seen her like that, and Luna…Luna really, really thought she’d messed up.

The flaxen-haired youth would do her best to remember to refer to Revna Marr without honorifics, even if they were due. At least, not in this setting. She could only imagine the eyes of the Sith Court falling on her like bombs for being so irreverent and ill-educated. It soothed her battered soul a little more that the raven-haired woman wasn’t irritated with her, unlike what she had initially assumed. Lunaria had spent so much of her life in hiding, with her family, keeping her secret.

The way they talked about her though…

Courageous?

No. That was all Matteo Guo-Yian – He was always the determined one. The one who kept her standing. The one who gave her the strength she needed to stand tall in a world felt like it was specifically designed to crush her. The deck was stacked. In any other royal family, the children would have been afforded every opportunity, every luxury, but they had literally been buried in time and cut off from their birthright. Luna did not have the confidence of Quinn or the grace of her mother because she had never been given the chance. If anything…Haru made things harder for them.

Sent assassins after them…But with the intent of the experience making them stronger.

It was the sensation of everything slipping through her fingertips all at once that left her so out of sorts.

“I hope we didn’t take too much from you…La-….Revna.”

The words were a touch sheepish while she once again found the ground very interesting to look at. The almost perpetual rose tint to pale cheeks seemed there to stay while her posture remained almost picture perfect. She was so waif thin and light that she seemed to hold the bearing of a dancer more than a fighter, likely due to her hard focus on agility. She had long ago accepted that she would never be the biggest or the strongest—So she settled on being the fastest.

She wouldn’t lose if she couldn’t get hit.

“I’ll tell my friend Matteo you said that. He studies under the Empress…”, it always felt strange to refer to her mother with her title, rather than calling her exactly what she was. Mother. “He tells me she can be really—”

Lunaria paused, remembering not to vent her frustration in public. Her lips twitched to the side, and she sighed lightly while trying to let the mask of Artemis slip back into place. It was difficult to do.

“Difficult to impress.”

The chat with Lady Marr about her identity would probably have to wait because doing it here, now, would likely draw more attention. She also wasn’t sure how Quinn might react. It was a well-known fact that their alias was the only thing anyone would ever know…But Luna didn’t want to be Artemis Dreadmoor when she was old and gray. On the other hand, she also didn’t want anything bad to happen to Revna Marr either. The uncertainty made her bite her lip. Shift, with indecision.

Slowly…Luna lifted her eyes, and orbs like silver dollars settled first on Revna and then on Quinn.

“Së ista.”

She knows.

Two words left her in her birth-tongue, Echani, and though they were small…They meant so much. The young woman knew that this was something she couldn’t handle on her own. And there was no taking it back…No lying it away. Her mother was the only one she knew of who was powerful enough to obliterate memories on the spot—But Luna didn’t want to involve her. Not yet.

Not when the woman was still so mad.

Lunaria was really struggling to find a way to get her inner voice to step up. Her expression slowly melted into one of quiet resolve, though it was tinged with no small amount of concern. Her family wasn’t like the people she saw on Holo-Films and daytime programming.

There was no good solution…

But ignoring things, dancing around it, might make it worse. What if Revna unknowingly spoke of it in front of the wrong person? A servant of her father—Or one of the Sepulchral? Those creepy crawlies had eyes and ears everywhere, and that was only the tip of the iceberg.

This could be bad for both of them.

 

[Mercy]

Srina Talon

Some might have been frightened by the infinity within Srina's eyes, as she lifted the veil of the Devourer, but Mercy had always been brave. As a child, young, bounding off of cliffs to dive into deep waters below. In her adolescence, discarding her family, and making her own way without concern of the consequences. As an apprentice, demanding that the Empress of a Thousand Worlds would teach her. Braving the Drengir Horde and breaking the spine of an Eldritch Creature infesting her via her arm.

So many more stories, some of which she'd like to share with her new-found sister, even if now was not the time.

Mercy ran her nose along her temple and finally kissed her eyes, one each, gentle.

"I think your eyes are pretty... before and now." She said with a teasing smile before drawing back again. The idea of Srina being fallible was amusing, since most people were, of course.

Except Mercy, who was perfect. And now, her Srina, who could not have been her battle-sister if she wasn't perfect too.

Mercy listened, even when she picked up the tankard, drinking from her ale with relish.

"I understand." She did not, not really. The idea of people getting hurt in the crossroads was not something that bothered Mercy very much. Such worry was beyond her. It relied on her having the presence of mind to acknowledge people's existence when they were out of her eye. "Then we could do it somewhere else."

The idea that this creature was rooted within Srina and waiting to unfold and take over... she did not like it.

"I am not worried, but I believe having a sleeping bomb inside of your chest, is less than ideal." Teasing her lightly as she stretched out, leaning against waiting bark.

"We could find a place that is devoid of anyone else. Where we can safely unleash it... and surprise it. Why wait until it is trying to take advantage, if we can reverse the role on it?"

 

[Skadi Lightbane]

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

At first, Skadi didn’t think he’d heard her explanation. And then there came the very brief tension or question on if he would actually walk away from her to go after Irina. The Valkyri held her breath, waiting to see what Aerik would do.

Then, he repeated what she had said, slowly - the mead still covering his mind in a warm haze. He teetered on the very edge of returning to the fire with her, or leaving her to face the night alone. He dragged another hand through his hair, before coming to terms with the situation at hand. At least, as well as he could, given the circumstances and his inebriated state.

After several moments, with the sounds of merrimaking, dancing, and the crackling fire behind them, the Young Wolf turned his attention to the woman who still remained with him.

“You said drink.”

“I did, ja.” Skadi replied as he gave her hand, still in his, a brief squeeze before guiding them both towards the nearest barrel of mead. There were already clay mugs full to the brim laid out in a row for those who wished to partake, and Aerik didn’t hesitate. He took one and, after saluting to nothing in particular (which caused the Valkryi beside him to smile and chuckle) downed it in one go. Skadi didn’t wait for permission to take one - she grabbed a clay mug and lifted it towards him, her smile shifting from being tense to warm.

“Skál.” She said softly and with no small amount of humor to Aerik, before she tipped the mug back herself, drinking deeply of its contents. The sweet burn of the mead seemed to wash the rest of her tension away, and warmth bloomed in her chest and spread up her neck and into her cheeks and through her arms.

She finished her mug shortly after Aerik had finished his, her lips wet with the drink as a warm and almost careful smile split her face as she set the mug down beside his own.

“Well, I did not survive this war just to stand around sulking.” Aerik stated roughly, before a crooked grin filled his features and made her heart happy.

Before she could say anything to the matter, he took her hand again and pulled her towards the open space around a roaring fire. There, others could be seen dancing - alone, or with partners, and everyone was intoxicated to some degree, and enjoying the moment for what it was, and for while it would last.

Aerik mentioned something about if Irina returned, then she could choose to scold him or not, and despite the situation Skadi had just left behind, she laughed. His carefree nature, even when drunk, was infectious. It was so different from the side of Aerik that she normally saw, that Skadi was more than happy to enjoy this rare moment with him.

He looked back at her, his smile widening as he said she had been promised a dance, before he pulled her towards the music that was already lifting her spirits, along with the mug of mead she had consumed. The Valkyri laughed as she let herself be carried away, enjoying the fleeting moment of closeness she’d been granted - though she had a feeling that her dance partner wasn't going to remember a single moment of this night.

 

[Aerik Lechner]

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

Aerik pulled Skadi into the circle of firelight without much concern for who else already occupied the space. The music was louder here, drums and pipes weaving through the crackle of the flames as warriors and travelers alike moved with the reckless enthusiasm of people who had survived something they were not certain they would.

For a moment Aerik simply stood there, swaying slightly as he tried to remember what exactly one was supposed to do once a dance had actually begun.

Then he shrugged.

“Close enough,” he muttered to no one in particular.

He caught Skadi’s other hand and lifted both of them as if that alone was sufficient instruction. The first few steps were enthusiastic but wildly uncoordinated, his boots landing half a beat behind the rhythm before he corrected himself with a laugh.

“See?” he declared with drunken confidence. “Perfectly under control.”

That claim lasted all of three seconds before he attempted to spin her and nearly spun himself instead.

Aerik staggered a step sideways, caught his balance with a quick adjustment, and burst into a rough laugh that carried easily over the music.

“Alright,” he admitted, raising a finger as if delivering some great tactical revelation. “Mostly under control.”

The mead had loosened everything about him. The careful discipline that usually shaped his movements was gone, replaced by easy momentum and broad gestures that pulled Skadi through the dance whether she intended to go there or not.

He swung her back toward him, boots sliding in the packed earth near the fire as the rhythm picked up. The grin on his face grew wider with every turn, every near misstep, every moment where the music threatened to outrun him.

Someone nearby shouted encouragement when Aerik lifted their joined hands again and tried another spin. This time he managed it without losing his footing, though the triumph of that small victory was celebrated with a laugh far louder than the moment required.

“There,” he said, breath a little uneven from the movement. “Now it looks intentional.”

For a while the rest of the world seemed to fall away. The firelight flickered across Skadi’s hair as they moved, the drums beat steadily through the ground beneath his boots, and the warmth of the mead kept everything comfortably distant from whatever thoughts had followed Irina into the darkness.

Eventually the dance slowed as the musicians shifted rhythm, and Aerik found himself closer to Skadi than he had intended, their joined hands drawing them together instead of apart as the movement settled.

For a second he simply looked at her, the grin on his face softening as the warmth of the drink and the closeness of the moment blurred together in his hazy thoughts. His head dipped forward slightly, as though the motion of the dance had not quite stopped yet, and he leaned in without really thinking about it.

The movement stalled halfway there.

Aerik blinked once, the realization arriving a moment late, and then he huffed a quiet laugh under his breath as he leaned back again, dragging a hand through his hair as if shaking the thought loose.

“Too much mead,” he said with a crooked grin.

He never released her hands, though, even when the music surged back to life and the dance began to move again.

 

[Neryn Ka]

Neryn could scarcely wait. Naturally, the possibility that he could fail and lose status in the eyes of the Imperator-Creator never once crossed his mind.

In some ways, this sort of utterly invulnerable self-belief was a strength. Neryn would stand where others balked, unflinchingly stare down the worst horrors imaginable (or unimaginable), and do it all with the knowledge that the galaxy was his to do as he pleased with. Everything and everyone else within it was there by his sufferance alone.

After all, he was a horror himself, by any metric one chose to use, albeit a lesser one by far than the mind that had created him.

"Surely, these Imperials deserve the worst of what is to come." He suggested. "The sheer audacity to dirty this soil with their unclean feet not once, but twice." Said Neryn, blind to the irony.

"A shame, really. What the governor has made here is remarkable." He looked around a little more, appreciating the view. It had much artistic merit, even if he'd get even more fun from kindling it to nothing with his unnatural fires. As much as Neryn loved beautiful things, he loved destroying them even more.

In rare moments, the creature shared a tiny glimmer of Lirka Ka 's philosophical side. "Though one could argue that beauty shines all the brighter alongside horror. A nice fire or thirty would spruce it up quite nicely. Maybe a few impaled corpses, left for the birds and the scurrying things in the undergrowth."

"I think I'd like a planet too, Creator-Mother." He said after a moment's quiet consideration. "Then I could fill it with all the things I like. Sharp blades, shiny eyeballs, everlasting fires, freshly-peeled skin, and plenty of things to chase down and pick apart." The mere idea seemed to bring Neryn some solace from the incensed, dangerous rage of a few seconds ago. "A world with no boring stuff like gravity, direction, or linear time to spoil the fun. Just me and my toys, forever and ever."

"Wouldn't that be wonderful?" The Sephi-Thing said with a dreamy sigh, sitting down on a rock and kicking his legs boyishly off the edge. He appeared highly pleased with this abhorrent little idea, rather lost in his own overactive imagination. "Just think. Maybe I could even take an Imperial world, and remake it into something a little more amusing. So many terrible, benighted places outside the Blackwall, all so full of barbarians." He wrinkled his immaculate features under the mask. "I don't know how you stand it, Creator-Mother. You are far wiser and more patient than I." This last bit came in the unctuous tone Neryn used when attempting to flatter his maker.

 

[Skadi Lightbane]

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

Though the heat of the mead she had drunk swam through her veins and warmed her chest, Skadi wasn’t as gone as Aerik was. She was still mostly cognitive, aware of her surroundings, even if the edges of her awareness were fuzzy.

Aware enough to notice when her dancing partner stumbled or swayed on his feet. For a moment, he seemed unaware of how to dance, or perhaps maybe he’d forgotten. The dancers and crowd around them, those that knew him anyway, cheered and egged them on.

Aerik caught her hands and stepped into the beat of the drums and instruments, though at first his movements were wild and all over the place. Mild alarm and amusement flickered over Skadi’s face as she did her best to correct him before he took them both down into the fire.

He declared with drunken confidence that he had everything perfectly under control, but that was proven to not be the case a few moments later when he attempted to spin her and practically spun himself. Skadi melted into a fit of merry laughter, both at him and at their situation. He staggered, caught himself, and muttered something about almost being in control.

It was clear that the young wolf before her had dropped almost all the barriers he usually had in place, making him be far more open and relaxed than he otherwise might have been. It was both good, and odd, for Skadi to witness. She enjoyed seeing this side of him, far more than she realized she would, but there was also a lingering sadness that came with it.

Once the mead wore off…this side of him would be hidden again behind a plethora of masks and barriers.

The Valkyri loosened herself and the tension that had coiled her muscles, and allowed her drunken companion to dictate the flow of the dance. She didn’t fight against him, otherwise it would make their dance awkward and disjointed, and it had a certain drunken fluidness to it that the rest of the dancers and partygoers seemed to enjoy.

Aerik attempted another spin, which luckily succeeded this time, and shouts of encouragement filled the area. The victory earned a deep bellowing laugh, louder than it otherwise would have been, and Skadi couldn’t help the grin that spread across her face as sweat began to bead on her skin from the exertion and the proximity to the fire - making her skin appear as if it were dusted with crystals in the firelight.

The moments between them seem to drift onward, the motion of the dance bringing both of them closer in a way that she hadn’t imagined seeing herself in - a way that she had wanted, but hadn’t dared to bridge. The song changed, shifted from something merry to something slower and more…intimate.

Now Skadi guided him through a slower dance to the rhythm of the music, their hands together, the space between them almost non-existent. The Young Wolf looked down at her and she looked up at him, their closeness and the moment making her breath catch in her chest and her heart rate increase.

It was the closest they had ever been - and it made her both ache with warmth and longing, and with sorrow.

The way he looked at her, the warmth in his smile, it made her wonder if he just might kiss her. Part of her wanted him to, and the other part of her didn’t.

His head dipped a little lower, the intention of that motion clear - but just before the space could be bridged, Aerik stopped. He seemed to catch himself, or realize what he was doing or had been about to do. He let out a soft laugh as he pulled away, dragged one of his hands through his hair again and muttered something about “too much mead.”

Inside, Skadi’s heart broke - but she kept a warm smile on her face despite the moment. As much as she wanted that kiss with him, she knew him pulling away was for the best.

If they were going to share a kiss - she wanted him to remember it. And there was no way that he was going to remember this night, not with how drunk he was.

“Yeah…maybe a little.” She replied, her voice loud enough to pierce the fuzzy haze over his brain, but soft enough for their intimate space.

She was about to simply lay her head against his chest and take him through a round of slow dancing and at least have that moment with him, when the music shifted pace again, and the moment to do so passed her by.

 

[Aerik Lechner]

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

The shift in the music broke the moment as surely as if someone had clapped between them.

The slower rhythm vanished beneath a surge of drums and pipes, the dancers around them erupting back into motion as the circle of firelight filled again with movement and laughter. Someone shouted for another round of drink. A pair of warriors nearly collided beside them and spun away again in a mess of boots and elbows. The night air carried the scent of smoke, roasted meat, and spilled mead.

Whatever quiet space had briefly existed between Aerik and Skadi dissolved into the celebration.

Aerik blinked once as the tempo changed, the crooked grin returning to his face as if the music itself had reminded him what the night was supposed to be.

“Well,” he said, lifting their joined hands slightly as though presenting a grand conclusion to the universe, “that was going suspiciously well.”

The grin widened.

“Which usually means something is about to go wrong.”

A burst of laughter from nearby dancers rolled across the firelight as someone missed a step and nearly fell into the edge of the circle. The moment pulled Aerik’s attention for half a heartbeat before another realization worked its way through the comfortable haze of mead.

His brow furrowed.

“…I am starving.”

The declaration landed with the weight of a battlefield revelation.

Without waiting for Skadi’s agreement he tugged her hand again and steered them out of the dancing circle. They slipped between clusters of celebrating warriors and travelers until the long tables near the outer fires came into view. Platters of roasted meat and skewers had been left out for whoever wandered by, though most of them already showed signs of being raided by hungry hands.

Aerik released her only long enough to grab one of the skewers.

Firelight flickered across the meat as he lifted it for inspection.

He took a large bite.

For a moment he simply chewed while the sounds of the celebration swelled around them. The drums pounded somewhere behind his shoulder. Someone began singing loudly and badly near one of the larger fires.

Then his expression changed.

Aerik slowed, squinting suspiciously at the skewer in his hand as if it had personally betrayed him.

“…This,” he announced slowly, turning the meat in the firelight as though gathering evidence, “has been assaulted.”

He took another bite anyway.

Chewed.

Swallowed.

Then pointed at it accusingly.

“Overcooked.”

The word landed with the grave certainty of a man delivering battlefield intelligence.

He leaned his hip against the edge of the table, the warmth of the nearby fire flickering across his face as the crooked grin slowly returned.

“Still edible,” he admitted after another bite. “But whoever was in charge of this fire has committed a minor war crime.”

A group of dancers stumbled past them in a rush of laughter, one of them sloshing mead across the ground as they spun too close to the tables. Aerik caught Skadi’s wrist again almost absently so she would not be swept away with them while he finished examining the skewer.

He gestured toward the platter with a solemn nod.

“Try one.”

His eyes narrowed slightly as he considered the situation with drunken seriousness.

“And if it is all this terrible,” he added, glancing out toward the dark treeline beyond the firelight, “we can go hunting.”

The grin that followed suggested he believed this was an entirely reasonable solution.

“Probably more reliable than trusting whoever murdered this poor animal a second time.”

Behind them the drums surged again, the rhythm of the celebration carrying on as the firelight danced across the clearing and the night stretched wide and alive around them.