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This Is It.

@[member="Darron Wraith"]

L-14 Azerbani System

This was the only planet where Kiskla released her hold on the Art of the Small and let her tattoos paint her lightly tanned skin. In fact, she hardly thought about it while stepping out from the speeder that took her from location to location. For a fairly remote planet, and under control of the Protectorate, there were a lot of little things that kept her grounded.
The Sheyf was constantly looking to expand his presence, which gave his daughter a lot of political opportunities that demanded her attendance.
Today, however, she was on planet and her attention had been directed to the tall spires on the outskirts of the city, the last inhabitable place before the desert. It was also where the throne of her father rested. The Kiffu had a strong warrior heritage, and they believed to have the snapping electricity overhead had a certain intimidation factor that complemented The General of The Guardians.
These were pinnacles of energy that spired upwards, made mostly out of sand brick and glass. Like the rest of Kiffu, nothing strayed too far from their most renewable resource; sand.

The heels of her boots, regulation Guardian uniform, clicked against the cobblestone as she entered the control tower of the energy fields. There was an immediate temperature difference, no longer was the already striking desert heat heightened by the tendrils of lightning, the stone was an excellent insulator for the coolness.
It was quite a sight to see someone as blonde as she amongst a sea of thick, black haired and tanned species. She stood out like a sore thumb. Which is why her father, in response to recent rumours, had intensified her travel party, despite her ability to handle herself against assassination attempts.

"Over here, Sheyf Freya." Her attention was diverted to the cause of her being called over to the energy fields, and she ducked through the equipment to meet the broad-chested attendant. There were no small Kiffar, they were all muscular, strong boned and powerful. Even the women -- Kiskla herself was cutting it close to the slight side.

"We wanted to show you this circulation," His tanned finger circled the blue, glowing screen. There was a visual of both Kiffu and Kiffex on the screen, with their atmospheres around it in a lighter blue. "Something's affecting the gravitation, and we're due for a major storm a lot sooner than anticipated, which means a lot of our shipments will be held back for trade, and the incoming prisoners will be delayed in space."

"For how long?"

"Can't say. We just wanted you to be aware of it when confirming shipments. It's brewing now and should be in full force by the end of the week."

Kiskla nodded solemnly. That certainly affected the trade routes, and she braced her chin in thought before she was interrupted.

"There's an unidentified vessel from the Republic docking now," One of her men spoke up, holding a data pad with the correspondence between flight control and handing it in Kiskla's direction. "Apparently with a prisoner on board."

"The Republic? Well, we might as well give them a salutations."

"Apparently the prisoner is affiliated with the recent terror attempts."

"Then we should definitely give salutations. Thank you for the notification. I'll arrange the shipments to correlate with the pending storm. Please forward the information to my datapad."

On cue, the princess and her band of merry men (who she couldn't wait to rid herself of) turned on their heels and back to the speeder they had arrived on. If this was a member of the assassination attempts on her father and herself, they would be trialed immediately after interrogation. And, depending on how deep the roots of the organization ran, she could stop having bodyguards. There were probably a few resentful of her father, and hers for that matter, dominion of the Kiffex system's throne. The Vos clan had abdicated long ago, and the Freya heritage had long since been associated with the royal family. It was to be expected that their lineage was the next choice. There were still a few sore about it, and for it to be a civil disagreement was likely. It was also incredibly likely that someone had it out for Kiskla herself. She was a present politician with a strong opinion and a fighting voice for her people, even if she was just an ambassafor for the Omega Protectorate, putting her in more of a senator position than a princess.

Jacen Cavill

I Am Death
Beta V Docking Bay
Ramp of Republic Freighter...

Drip, drip...

The gray, viscous substance looked nothing like what blood should look like. The length of time it took to run down the bulbous nose and sharp cheek bones, before dropping on the floor was too long. When compared with the time it took from the small scrapes on his arm and to accomplish the same thing. Gravity wasn't a concern now that they were under the real resistance a planet's mass provided, were they still above the atmosphere he would have questioned the actual quality of the artificial gravity. His hypothesis answered, he could only study it as the landing procedures cycled through. They had just come in from a space port in the sector, and the two dead on board would be of great interest to the local government.

One Jedi Master, one alive Anzat Sith, one dead Anzat, and a dead Kiffar representative.

"Sir, ramp's opening. They should have the adequate means to restrain that monster." Strapped to the seated prisoner's chest was a Ysalarmi. It was necessary to keep the creature from killing itself, if something as foul as that could be called that. "Thank you, stay up front and keep the cockpit locked just in case. I'm robbed of a great many things I can do as well, despite having my lightsabers." At the mention of his weapons, he noted the eyes of the Anzat travel to his belt, and then back to the floor. Whether it was their proximity, or the smell trapped on his nasal hairs, but a disgusting smell of burnt flesh was everywhere. That fight had been fierce and ferocious, as odd as the circumstances alone.

Anzat's hunted alone, and all were Force sensitive. Those who did manage to join the Sith, or whatever sect they followed usually delegated them to Assassin jobs. Evolution couldn't have imagined a greater hunter for the sentient races of the galaxy. As it stood, it came to look the Jedi Master right in the eye. Tall for his race, Darron noted how it's muscles were well toned, if even bulkier than your average human. Their speed was only capable of being matched with a Force-User or droid, and their cunning was unmatched. The ability to drink the brains of other races, and the knowledge they gained was useful in their role as informants. When pressed on what they were doing with the Kiffar representative that the(now default) leader of the Jedi had been trying to meet, well they had attacked him. Why the Empire,who had clearly emblazoned them with a mark of their nation, had sent two Master level assassins to take on one diplomat was beyond him. Wraith had heard the rumors, but had somehow taken on two hunters of mean as powerful in the Force as he was.

One was dead, the other was walking ahead of him with it's head low and metaphorical tail between it's legs.

Despite being crowded, he could hear a pin drop at the starport. Even during brief readings of the galactic news, he knew the galaxy was on edge. It seemed the smaller nations, border nations, and those under the rule of much larger factions were under siege from terrorists. His black, almost knee high, boots echoed off the durasteel plated floor. Black pants were fitted tightly, with a bit of room for flexibility, the rugged cloth made for most missions. His matching armor weave shirt he wore that was sleeveless was only visible below his sternum, matched by the glove covering his right hand and forearm. Across his belt were two electrum coated lightsaber hilts, the light reflecting off of them and the golden chest plate and matching bracers. The chest piece was made of thin durasteel, the bracers were a cortosis-weave. His shoulder length, golden locks were brushed from his face, and fully showed off the still young but rugged features that were distinctly the former GrandMaster.

Coming to a halt, he awaited the delegation that was to meet him. The soldiers in the ship with him joined behind, all their weapons trained on the prisoner who was being held back with the same thing that held their leader in check. A few small trickles of bright red liquid traveled down his powerful arms, thankfully the cloak he had at the time had taken the brunt of the blast. All of the hardy Kiffar men were paying him attention, and it was then he realized he was near the upper end of their own size. They should have seen me as a teen, they would have ate me for breakfast, he thought as he smiled to them. Well, as best as a man like himself could.

His senses blinded, he merely walked to stand next to the feral predator. Instead he was struck by the woman taking point. "I hear the King's daughter is quite beautiful Master Jedi." Of course, lets talk about women from other worlds in a stressful situation. Here I am trying to reach out to my sixth sense I've been robbed of, and they want to oogle a princess. "You guys would be more concerned about this than her appearance," he gently chided. "You should be more worried about what I'm going to do when I get out of these chains...JEDI." The voice was smooth as could be, but the malice wasn't even veiled. A soldier went to raise the but of his rifle, but Darron turned to regard him. "No, we won't do that to him. A rare race he may be, but we won't torture him." His back to the group, he wouldn't know just how close he was to a certain someone who had to be within ear shot by this point.

"You think I'm worried about your morals or being in your charge, I will kill you." His bulbous nose flared at the handsome Jedi Master, and a sly grin appeared. "I'd like to remind you I took you and your brother on at the same time. Yet here I stand." Wraith moved his arms about, unencumbered by chains. "Yet, there you are in chains. You aren't the only one who is dangerous, I just protect people with my gift. You're a monster." Then he turned to face a very familiar face, albeit covered in tattoos he had never seen, that didn't mar her beauty in the slightest.

It was her.


Why was @[member="Kiskla Grayson"] here?
"Any more information from this Republican vessel?" She asked as the transport closed the distances between the Energy Fields and the docking hangars. But not before stopping for reinforcements to hold the captive until it was tried, and transferred to the Kiffex prisons.
For information, Kiskla was fed with only tidbits followed by silence. From the vessel itself, the prisoner's identity as the assassin had been confirmed as well as the other members on board. The live ones, anyway. A Jedi Master was one of the mentioned persons. This struck a chord. If a Jedi Master was necessary to restrain the hired killer, it was more than likely the terrorist was not civil. On the bright side, this meant there was no civil unrest with Kiffu's current political state. On the other hand, someone was after her head. Although the Sheyf had been an impressive bounty hunter in his prime, he was not Force sensitive.

The shuttle docked at station Beta V and two of her temporary bodyguards unloaded before she did, and two more curled around her. The entire ramp was lined with Guardians and electrical staffs, their gaze trained on the beings bantering. And a certain bantering caught her ears before her eyes and she almost shook her head in disbelief. This was the third time they had crossed paths without any sort of planning. It was getting to be a little peculiar, especially on her turf. It was strange to her that she wasn't able to feel his very distinct presence, but as soon as she gathered visuals over the entire situation, the Ysalamir explained it. How the heck did they get a Ysalamir? This whole situation was as peculiar as it was convenient.

She caught the tail end of the conversation; "A rare race he may be, but we won't torture him."
and her lips twisted slightly. That would be up to her, not him. The Republic's jurisdiction didn't span here, especially if a threat was personal.

The young Jedi Master refrained from interrupting the conversation between the captor and the captive, instead gestured to the soldiers lining the platform to board the ramp and clear the hull of the ship.
Duty before Darron.
As far as a first name basis, it received a few raised eyebrows. Not many on this planet called her by her first name, despite her pleasant demeanour to her people. It was just tradition.

"Looks like there's a thank you in order, Master Jedi." Kiskla commented, her light eyes glinting beneath her thinly painted veil. She smoothly transitioned from the potential for awkward hello's to establishing that she was in a position of authority in this situation. At least to the massive warriors surrounding. @[member="Darron Wraith"] had asked her about her tattoos a while ago back on Coruscant, but she had never revealed them. She never did in case of situations like this, there were always tangled webs woven for politicians and being seen beyond the Inner Rim could be detrimental. The hulky bodies of her guards stepped forward to relieve the Jedi of his guarding duties, their electric staffs humming threateningly.

Duty first, and as repulsive as the Anzat was, she stepped forward "I heard you might be coming, I was beginning to think you wouldn't show up." The Anzat sneered at her, equally displeased that she was alive and breathing as well as Darron. Moreso she, however, because that's where he was supposed to collect his bounty. "But now that you're here, we won't keep you waiting."
Before she could continue the what would have been conversation, the Guardians re-emerged with two corpses in tow. Briefly, the princess' light eyes look quizzically at the Jedi Master escort, before stepping around them to inspect the body, dropping to one knee as they set the representative against the cold steel ground. There was absolutely no pulse, and she was as blinded as the rest of the to the Force because of the nearness of the fatal lizard. She recognized the citizen as a brother of the Fen clan, and she closed his eyelids before standing and letting others clammer about him and wrap him up. Kiskla straightened again, watching as the impressively sized Kiffar soldiers forced the Anzat Sith toward the transport. "I'm going to assume," Kiskla began, stepping near to Darron "that since you incurred some marks this guy's not someone to trifle with. So you can come with me to see this through. How are you even mixed up in all this." With that, she stepped forward, only looking backward over her shoulder for a moment, her commanding façade never once wavering, despite her pleasure in seeing her friend. Only a wry grin, all too familiar, crossed her features "-unless you've got a pressing mission to be at."

Between the two of them, for quite some time now, they were pulled either which way. She, to Kiffu and Kiffex, and he to whatever the Republic bade him. The last run-in they'd had on Coruscant had been cut short by his needing to go to Datar.

Jacen Cavill

I Am Death
@[member="Kiskla Grayson"]

"Oh, you know. They are just deadly quick. If it had been a one on one fight I would have been alright." Why he felt the need to defend himself from her talking about the scratches on his arms was beyond him, but it was all in good humor. "I was actually doing alright until one of them threw a thermal detonator, my cloak and a force bubble took the whole blast." Looking down, he could see stray drops of blood running freely down his arms as Kiskla kneeled to check the representative. Whatever he would have checked for in the Force he couldn't, and her body language was nigh unreadable. Even though he had been around her several times, this was the one thing he wished he could pick up on more from her. They both seemed adept at putting up walls, but why was she here?

He knew she was Kiffar, but had never seen her tattoos until she stood up.

Once the Anzat and the Ysalarmi in the nutrient tank were taken away, the world seemed to open back up to Wraith. His senses in the Force once more opened up, and everything opened back up. No longer did he feel trapped to the five senses most races had. Instead, as he had tried to explain to those without a Force connection, he was connected again. Kiskla's fiery aura of conflict from the gods within her was rubbing near the eye of the storm that was his own. Every one of his senses were becoming intertwined as his field of responsibility extended outwards. The Anzat was still a dead zone to him due to the Ysalarmi's cancelling field, but he could feel the Kiffar Guardian's sense of duty and their honor. Just as he could feel the eyes upon him for standing so close to Kiskla and addressing her in such a way. I have a feeling that if I wasn't a Jedi Master, they would be a little more in arms about what I said. If there was a quizzical look on his face, it was gone in seconds.

They started walking, and he caught her smirk, though he was curious as to her dress. Deciding to catch up, he got next to her and matched her stride. "I can stick around as long as need be. The Order is in a holding pattern, and most Jedi are on mission as it is. We've been rather busy after a war almost broke out over a darkside artifact auction. Times have been troublesome, and terrorist attacks have been on the rise. I'll gladly stick around to testify." The thought of being on world for an extended stay was rather nice, if just to get away from all the politics that were surrounding the Order presently. He didn't even want to think about the promotion that was literally sitting there for him to answer to.

Should I really be GrandMaster again?

The question burned in his mind before he turned a side-ways glance at the tattoo on Kiskla's face. "So, I feel like there's something I'm missing here. I know you're a Jedi Master, I know you are Kiffar and I can finally say I've seen your tattoos. Why is everyone here acting like I committed a cardinal sin just by saying your name?"
Ah, Sith Artifact auction -- that must have been where he had got the artifact from that was destroyed during the Force Light demonstration for Josiah. The pair boarded the transport and the door sealed behind them. The jump from Kiffu to the Kiffex prisons would be short, which was good considering the amount of unrest and displeasure from the Anzat assassin. Even though she couldn't feel his intentions, it was obvious the Sith's gaze was trained on his target. She had regarded his Empire markings, and was only slightly unsettled.

She had a respect for Darron that was founded purely on the basis that he had pried deep enough for her to have given him at least one straight answer in their time together. Kiskla was a woman of mystery, as were most from her bloodline. This was symbolized by the mask that was painted across her face -- it wasn't just in her nature, it was in her blood. When @[member="Darron Wraith"] asked why his mention of her first name was so incriminating, she replied with a simple; "You're being direspectful. Remember I said I was in politics?" She then nodded to one of the Kiffu in a similar uniform to her own, who turned to speak with the pilot. "I'll give you a quick culture lesson."
She'd never revealed her royal heritage before. Her reputation usually preceded her, and her status was known. "The royal family on Kiffu are referred to as Sheyfs." Her light eyes were still regarding the prisoner, summing him up based on size and the damage done to the blonde warrior by her side. She couldn't wait to introduce this being to his cell ---- if he made it there past the interrogation. Considering the unrest he'd caused, she didn't plan on going easy on him.

It was perfect timing. No sooner had she made her transitional sentence, than one of the attendants spoke up, addressing her in the cordial fashion that was appropriate for the General; "Sheyf Freya," the dark-skinned warrior began "The interrogation rooms have been cleared, and we'll be reaching Kiffex within the next two minutes."

"Thank you." The blonde's smirk never faded and she glanced at Darron, to make sure he'd caught the use of the title in her direction. That's right, the Kiskla Grayson he knew was a princess; heir to a throne of warriors. "You never answered my question," the Jedi Master spoke up as the sleek transport vessel rocked slightly as it crossed with an electrical transfer from Kiffex. The currents between the two planets were what generated the electricity the Kiffus harvested, and what interrupted the communications from the prisons on Kiffex, making the entire planet both desolate and isolated. "How did you get mixed up with my representative and two assassins?"

Jacen Cavill

I Am Death
"You're being disrespectful. Remember when I said I was in politics?" Darron did indeed remember that very conversation, it had been on Naboo. She had found him in a state of repair, transition some could say. Where she had been just as lovely as she was now, and just as sure of herself, he wasn't. To be brutally blunt, Darron Wraith had been a complete and total wreck at that time. Going around, hoping to do as much good as possible with the time he thought he had, he was simply pulling at straws. While physically, he hadn't been what he was at the moment, his mind had been the one thing that was fractured. Thankfully, the beard was gone, and his training and missions had restored him to the man he had been, if not something stronger. I've come a good long way, and most of it is thanks to her. Wraith had indeed thought of her a lot, and how she had rubbed off him. Then his reverie was broken by her next statement.

"The royal family on Kiffu are referred to as Sheyfs."

A whistle escaped his mouth, how in the feth did I miss that? Darron just sat there with a dumbstruck look plastered on his face for all of a few seconds. The dark-skinned Kiffar came up to them and spoke to the "Sheyf" as he was going to assume her title was. Seeing they were only a few minutes away, that gave him at least a little bit of time to get his bearings before he had to take another crash course in Kiffar etiquette. They most certainly didn't go over this when I was learning in the temple as a young boy.

"Why was I there?" Darron thought his words over a moment before deciding to become a little more formal. Everyone around him was eyeing him for a few reasons that he could easily discern. "I simply was there trying to build better Jedi relations throughout the region, while repairing the Republic's image as well in Protectorate space. Seems you've been out of the loop, after the Osarian/Rhommamool incident we've been trying to get the two nations to work better together. So the Jedi tabbed me to be the one to talk to their leaders, and do to your warrior culture they decided I would be the best choice." What he left out, was the fact that he had been shoved out the door practically so he could give the Order an answer. They knew they had just asked a huge deal of him, and his reluctance to take it spoke volumes of how he truly felt.

"The Order and the Republic themselves have had issues after a war was almost started due to that auction I mentioned. I was personally there, and dealt with those who went afoul of the law afterwards." Again, as he he stood there in a parade rest now, he could notice the respect he was getting now that he was talking to Kiskla the way they wanted him to. Unconsciously, he kept his eyes fixed on the Anzat that was in chains a good distance ahead of them. Darron wasn't worried about the prospect of fighting it again, as it stood no chance. The collateral damage was what had him worried, and the fact that there was a Ysalarmi in play at the moment.

"So Sheyf Grayson, I basically was there to get an audience with the royal family so the Jedi could freely roam here to help. I ran into that thing," he pointed at the Anzati again to make his point. "So I took him and his brother down after discovering they had assassinated your diplomat, and if you don't mind I'd like to help with the interrogation. Much has happened across the Imperial border, I'm curious and we need the intelligence."

@[member="Kiskla Grayson"]
Kiskla was aware The Protectorate wasn't held in the highest of esteems galaxy-wide after a few occurrences. The treaty to be in their territory had been signed before Kiskla was old enough to get involved. Considering Omega Pyre was composed of mercenaries and similar people, it made sense for them to sway her father --- he had been a renowned Bounty Hunter in his prime. Faceless, however, as it would remain. Like his daughter, he covered his tattoos with a mask to prevent his planet being used as a bargaining chip.

Jedi roaming about here? She had no problem with that, but the king probably would. He despised Jedi after the death of his late wife.

She listened stiffly, only letting her gaze divert to the drips of blood once or twice. She couldn't remember if Darron was any good at healing or not -- but the question remained; Why hadn't he tended to that yet? She could assign a medic to him at the prisons. "As I said earlier, a thank you is in order. You can have your audience, and be part of the interrogation." She glanced over at the prisoner as the shuttle shuddered, letting them know they were entering Kiffex's atmosphere. For a moment, her personality peeked through the formality, and she hmph'ed slightly "He seems to like talking to you."

Close. If he were to look at her, she would be looking quite smug. Freya. Kiskla thought, directing the mental push in @[member="Darron Wraith"]'s direction My father's last name is Freya. Another little secret -- she'd adopted her mother's Nabooian name rather than jeopardizing her father's during her Jedi training. That, and he had been estranged most of her life.

The descent to the planet's surface was silent. There was nothing out of the ordinary. The ship did it's business, nestling into it's designated location. There were a few hisses from the machinery outside as the ramps latched to the vessel, and the doors lifted for their departure. It was a sight the young princess was used to, but stepping out of the vessel for the first time would be impressive. Some of the extremely devoted Guardian found appreciation each time as well. And her father, biting his tongue, even owed the Jedi a little bit for the inspiration.

The prisons before them were far from the shells of what they used to be. Kiffex had always been known for the cells on the planet, but they had been somewhat primitive. Criminals were getting more advanced, and in order to contain them, the prisons needed to advance as well. When Kiskla had devoted more time to her planet, she had been inspired by some archives on the prisoners of war from the Clone Wars. The Prism -- an isolated prison under the command of deceased Master Skein and destroyed by Vader.
It wasn't an inviting sight, especially for the condemned. Tall spires twisted into the lightning crackling overhead. The ramp from the ship hovered quite a few feet of the ground, and the first few Guardians stepped out, followed by the prisoner and the two Jedi Masters.
As they party walked, more of the prison was revealed. Despite the planet's naturally hot climate, the prisons seemed to radiate a cool feeling because of the artificial lighting and cool stones used. No sand stones this time. They walked until they were at the edge of the prison, facing the spans of desert. Another precaution; if a criminal ever did decide to run, there was nowhere to go. The deserts were uninviting and had dangers of it's own to worry about. One of the Guardians grunted, opening the door to a large, dimly lit room. It was empty, save for a metallic chair which the Anzat was guided to and clamped down. Immediately, currents of electricity travelled across the alien's wrists and ankles, keeping him in place. The remaining Kiffar stepped out, leaving the princess and the former grandmaster with the assassin.

"So you're working for The Empire, that's no secret." Kiskla began, folding her arms. Unfortunately, the Ysalamir stayed with the Anzat, and she was blinded from the creatures thoughts. "Inconvenient that you were interrupted on your mission. Which was, what exactly. Care to share? You've got nowhere to be and you're as close to it as you're ever going to be." She boldly stepped forward, quite sure she was the one he and his brother were after, considering their Sith status.

Jacen Cavill

I Am Death
"Apologies, Sheyf Freya. I'll make a note of that." He fully let his sarcasm show at getting corrected via telepathy. Her own personality showed itself for a moment, and he made a mental note to get away from this and just catch up with her. If nothing else, he owed that much to her after all she had helped him with. Whether it was with their missions, or with the actual emotional healing her own attitude had spurned, he couldn't point to. @[member="Kiskla Grayson"] was a name that while probably not her real one, was the one that he most associated with getting him back on the proper track to be the man he was. He was grateful, and she needed to know that. Well, maybe she doesn't. They don't call her Wildfire for nothing, he thought to himself.

Their descent continued.

Not another word was said, and instead he just focused on the prison below that they were landing on. The usual landing sequences happened, and soon the ramp to exit the ship was opening. As one, they all moved, and Darron made a note to just keep his mouth shut presently. There was no need to almost cause an intergalactic incident just because he didn't know the politics of one world. Kiskla would hopefully educate him on that subject in earnest later, and he hoped so. Just the thought of meeting the King, and whoever else he had to interview with after this little snafu was going to give him a headache. Why can't there just be another battle. Everything makes so much more sense when I'm defending those I need to and stopping those who intend to do harm. A sigh escaped his lips as he pined for something he knew he couldn't have, and like everything else he let it go.

He was a Jedi, and attachments were forbidden.

Upon landing, he simply made his out with everyone. The Guardians admired the structure, and he noted Kiskla's indifference. She's probably used to this by now, he thought. Instead, he took note of all the beautiful architecture. It wasn't often he got to have an appreciate for the art, even on a prison. While not inviting in the least, he could appreciate the lighting, and the cooling affect of the stones and the ionization in the air. Not an academic by nature, life had forced him on the warrior's path, he remembered enough to understand what he was seeing. Looking out at the vast desert, he knew that this was a place for those condemned on Kiffar. "I would say I feel sorry for the Anzat, but he can rot here for the next 1,000 years and still be living." A part of him wondered how they would feed him the brains he required, or if they even would.

Sometimes it was best to not think, so he stopped himself.

Once they were in the room, he let Kiskla begin speaking. The effects of the Ysalarmi were taking effect on them both, and he suddenly didn't like their odds. "Not to interrupt, but this has to change." Stepping in front of his fellow Jedi, he took the nutrient tank that carried the Ysalarmi out of the room and gave it to a Guardian. His senses returned, he stood there watching, and waiting for an answer. The Anzat simply smiled behind it's bulbous nose and grey skin, long black locks of hair stuck to the blood running down his cheeks. Knuckle indentations from a metallic fist that similiarly bore a few drops of the creatures blood where crossed behind Darron's back served as a reminder of what happened.

"You think, that I'm going tell you anything? I will have your head for Emperor Lussk soon enough, you really think I'm going anywhere?" The Anzat lunged forward, and just as suddenly as he tried to attempt to lunge while cuffed something else happened. A mighty force push exploded from Darron's hand in the enclosed space and knocked the Anzat and his chair against the wall, leaving a sizable dent as both fell to the floor. "I wouldn't try that if I were you," he said as he lifted the creature and put it back in it's seat. "How about you actually start answering before we have to persuade you to do that."
The next few things happened rather quickly. The Anzati alien didn't reply, and Darron employed good cop, bad cop scenario.

Except, they were void a few good cops.

With the Ysalarmi gone, the floodgates to her senses opened. She could suddenly feel Darron's intent presence burning furiously near to her, and the dark ring of energy encircling the Sith assassin. She wasn't deterred by his suggestion of her death, and remained poised, even after he had been flung across the room.

"You can't do that, Jedi." The Anzati spit at @[member="Darron Wraith"], a fresh trail of blood running from it's cheek where it had connected with the ground before being set upright. "I'm defenseless." A sneer crossed it's lips and it's cheeks pulsed beneath the blood, right where two devastating slits were.

"Actually," Kiskla interjected "He can do what he wants, as can I. You killed a Kiffar representative. Everything is fair game now. It's one question, answer it."

"You're still alive. So the mission continues." The Anzat replied, locking eyes with the irritated princess. That was enough of an answer. It meant the Omega Protectorate was on it's own in the galaxy, no matter how wide-spread it was. It's neutrality was it's fault. Shame she had to be lumped into that faction despite her displeasure with the organization.

"What does The Empire have against a single diplomat. Kiffu is but a blip on the galactic radar."

Silence. She was met with kriffing silence.

Kiskla frowned. With the downwards curl of her mouth, an intense amount of pressure was placed on the axis of the currents hovering above the Anzat's joints, until that electrical current crossed it's skin and the alien hissed it's displeasure. It was enough to agitate the Sith enough to pass a mass current of strength through his veins, and tear forward, separating the metals from each other. His lunge was unhindered this time, drawing from his anger and hatred to fuel his actions. As he had been trained. The slits on his cheeks were open now, and its proboscises were starving. It's hunt had now finally begun. Kiskla had been standing directly in it's line of sight, and therefore the object for it's tackle. When the back of her shoulders met with the stones however, her heels dug into the alien's stomach and propelled it backward, buying herself time to stand. "Yeah, good, let's get rid of the Ysalamir. Wonderful idea." The blonde muttered, enhancing her own presence in retaliation to The Sith who was working to stand again.

"Consider yourself lucky that I need answers." The Master threatened to the Anzant, who was standing on it's own now, no longer confined as it has been. This was not it's first rodeo, nor the princess'.

Jacen Cavill

I Am Death


The next few moments were hectic, and Wraith was kicking himself for removing the Ysalarmi at the moment. "You do realize, if I hadn't taken that thing out he could have killed us?" His expression was playful, but he was glad Kiskla could handle herself. Had it just been himself and a standard Kiffar in the room, the situation would have been much different. A flash of a memory, really a ghost from his past played in front of himself. He could see a friend, and the result had been much different. This wasn't Wraith's first encounter with the Anzati race, and he was fortunate that another friend hadn't served as "soup" to satiate the beast's hunger.

Beast, the word itself was apt. Though not one fit for a "code-following" Jedi such as himself to use. All life was equal, and no judgments were to be passed on beings. It was a cornerstone of the path he had set himself on, even if right now he wanted to ignore it. "Make sure to not let those proboscises make contact and get in your nostrils. I've seen them take down a grown man before within seconds, even if you're Force-Sensitive it will kill you." Darron walked over to stand right next to the Jedi Master he called a friend, and offered her a friendly smile. "Though, if you'd like me to leave you two alone to have some fun. I'll gladly walk out of her Anzat." Darron turned his gaze fully on the lithe being before him.

"She's nowhere near as nice as I am, and I'm not feeling very forgiving today. You almost took out one of my friends, and you tried to kill me after killing an innocent. You really don't want to earn our goodwill in a territory that's not very forgiving of murderers." Darron simply crossed his arms across his chest, and the creature eyed them both before yelling at them.

"You killed my brother you monster, do you not realize he could have lived for a millenia?" Darron didn't move, he simply yawned. "Do you not realize how many thousands of lives he would have taken if left alive? I was going to spare him, but he made a move to kill me. Not my fault he missed my parry." At the mention of how his sibling had died, the Anzat shook with further rage, and the chains that held it snapped as it lunged forth once more at the two Jedi Masters simply waiting for answers. Just like moments earlier, Wraith extended a hand and fired a powerful Force push straight at the Anzat's head. The same result happened, but Darron kept his grip around the assassin and kept him from hitting the wall.

"So, will you give us answers, or does the Sheyf over here," he motioned to Kiskla,"need to show you some electric judgement while I hold you?"

His gaze never left the Anzat, but he did send a message telepathically to the Kiffar in the room. Your call, I'll hold him. Just don't kill him....princess.

@[member="Kiskla Grayson"]
Kiskla nodded at the mention of her demeanor not being as pleasant as @[member="Darron Wraith"]'s. That much was certainly true, and it wasn't entirely her fault.
Okay, it mostly was.
He also referred to her as a friend, and she'd never really considered it. In fact, she'd never really examined their relationship beyond the obvious tension and compatibility as Jedi warriors. She supposed they were friends, considering how much they'd been through in such a short amount of time. Heck, she'd even had the opportunity to meet the family be it through memory recollection and crashing a party.

Then her ears perked at the suggestion of using electric judgement. Was that a joke? He had introduced her to the pure form of lightning on Coruscant. It had been a difficult exertion of the light; or it would have been if there hadn't been such purity surrounding them. She flashed an unnerved grimace in Darron's direction.
Coruscant had been rich with light energy for her to feed off, whereas Kiffu was exceptionally neutral with no give or take on way or the other.

Suspended, the Anzat struggled in his binds while awaiting the Princess' decision. His aura was churning in darkness, building and almost pulsing with its lustful appetite to fulfill it's mission. Not hair for the payment anymore, but for vengeance.
"What will make you talk?" Kiskla asked, stepping forward with a furrowed brow. The being remained tight lipped and rather theatrically, Kiskla shrugged. "Okay, fine. A prick for a prick." The young woman's palm was already tingling from the suggestion and her thoughts clearing. There was literally nothing but blackness before white bursts of energy belched from her palm in steaming torrents toward the Anzat.
The prisoner yelped as the heat tore through its insides, searching for ground. At the noise, Kiskla closed her palm and took a step back, the smell of burnt flesh quickly filling her nose and the immediate area about the assassin.
His head was hanging in response to her action, but something more was happening. The anger, the rage, the pain, the Anzat was feeding on it as if it were the soup he was seeking. He was feeding, and building. Snaps of electricity still danced around his body, and he looked up through the smoke lifting from his garment, a malicious curl across his almost human mouth.

It was in that moment Kiskla whispered "Shavit."

The Anzat's energy exploded around him, pushing radially from the middle out wards in a powerful burst. It was like Darron's push but not as focused. He didn't want it to be focused, he wanted damage.
And damage he got. The expulsion of energy was like a tidal wave toward the two masters and the walls surrounding him. Even with their reinforced structure, the back wall was pushed outward, bricks exploding into the desert sand.

Her force shield receded and she bit her tongue from another snappy remark before bounding out into the sands. If she had a bad attitude, the desert was worse. Far worse.

The Anzat was rubbing his wrists where his chains had been, grinning madly at the Princess who was slightly stunned but lunging out from the room after him.

"Really? Trying to even your odds?" She asked, expanding her presence in The Force for both intimidation and use purposes."You're making this difficult for yourself."
"You're not the only ones that can use The Force, Jedi." The Anzat Sith sneered, beginning to summon some lethal dark magics.

Jacen Cavill

I Am Death
"You're not the only ones that can use The Force, Jedi."

"You're right, but I'm better than you. In every way."

It was quick, to the point, and quite stunning. What should have taken minutes to power up, took him seconds. There was no hesitation, no second guessing. He simply committed to the action he was seeking to accomplish. Emptying the cup had taken him days to perform as a Padawan, sometimes weeks of meditation was needed. The speed he could accomplish the task of emptying himself out and letting the Force flow into him was astonishing, and it even surprised himself.

The Anzat went to lunge again, but all he got was a powerful blast of Force Light that erupted from the former GrandMaster's palm. Pure light burned the darkness the creature was summoning away, and Wraith kept the blast up. His skin was glowing, and his blonde locks were whipped back against his back from the power of the blast he was letting loose in the confined space. Every shadow in the room was destroyed in the act, and through his sphere of responsibility he could feel the predator's rage dissipating. Relax, Wraith, or you're going to kill him. It was his own voice talking to him, and he realized that he would indeed kill their prisoner if he didn't let up soon enough. It might not have been seen as the best solution, or even what was right or fair. That wasn't for him to decide though, he was a Jedi through and through. All life had merit to him, even for those who tried to kill him.

So he stopped.

"I...I-I submit Jedi. Plea-please don't do that again." The Anzat lay in a heap, and Darron left him there for once. Turning his back on the creature, he strode in front of Kiskla, and locked eyes with her. "If we keep on, we're just going to kill him. Is there anything you know to do that will pry his mind open without completely lobotomizing him? I know if we do a mind trick together to break his aura, it will destroy his mind." Darron glanced back at the creature, smoke pouring from it as the darkside energy it had summoned had been burned away. "Or do we continue to press our luck and see what happens? I don't see the merit in pushing this as far as we can, when he has all the information we need."

Realizing he was on her world, he changed course slightly.

"It's your house, your rules though...Prince-" Wraith caught himself and corrected the mistake. "I mean Sheyf."

@[member="Kiskla Grayson"]
Her house her rules.
To a point, she still sometimes pretended to be obedient and adhere to her father's wishes. But there was something that was beyond her control: The desert itself was something to be reckoned with, and it was blistering and unforgiving in temperatures as well as the life it held. Kiffu was an electrified desert for the most part, to put it plainly.
Apart from @[member="Darron Wraith"]'s brilliant and dazzling display, there was reason for a precognitive tingle to course down her spine. And it wasn't coming from the Anzat; he was a worthless heap of flesh at this point, whimpering after his demise. As for answers--Kiskla could easily trace his memory back to the point he had received orders through her telepathic arsenal, but not without risking the proboscis snaking up her nose. She was about to verbally speak up when the irritating tingle grew and her gaze moved past the alien on it's knees.

The sands were beginning to shift. Like a golden sea, the grains began to churn and quiver. In fact, beneath her boots she could feel the tremours and she frowned deeply. That Anzat had answers, and she knew what this quivering meant. Beyond better logic, Kiskla pushed past Darron and his steely gaze toward the Anzat in efforts to scoop him up out of harm's way, but she was too late. Grains of sand began to pour downwards around the alien and a loud groan rumbled beneath the surface of the plains. With little warning beyond the shaking of the plateau, a massive head filled with teeth reared from below and wriggled for a moment letting out a resounding roar. Her ears rang with it's earth-shattering wail, while its tiny prongs for arms wiggled menacingly.

Kiskla had dropped to her knees from the gravitational pull the beast had, and the fact that the sand was sliding to fill the hole around the creature's worm-like body. "Shavit." She muttered, giving a half-hearted reach in the direction of the terrified looking Anzat before realizing it was all too late. She backpedaled like mad, scraping to get out of the beasts way as it arched it's massive head. Well she was definitely liable to not only lose her suspect, but her legs as well. In an effort of self-preservation, a burst of energy exploded from her frame and drove her from the now downward diving desert worm, and exploded from her palms as an extra insurance to make sure Darron was out of the way. How awful would it be if her guest was to be devoured? That would certainly reflect negatively on Kiffu from the Republic's eyes, and she doubted the protectorate cared for that kind of conflict.
The Anzat's scream had been drowned out by the layers of teeth from the sand worm. Her long legs were still scraping to stand, and she was coughing out bits of sand as she looked behind her briefly. The worm wouldn't be satisfied for long, even with its meal. And why was it here? Those worms were native to the Eastern Waste areas of Kiffex, not so immediately near to the prisons. Perhaps it was a happy coincidence. It must have been disturbed by the activity above the surface, usually the Kiffar tread in time with the worm's heartbeats so as not to perturb them. Either way "We should get back to the complex," Kiskla huffed, finally standing and reaching toward Darron should he need assistance. She had sent quite the blast his way and knocking him from his feet hadn't been part of the plan, just to add some extra meters between himself and the hungry predator. She was more than a little irritated her answers had just become a stupid worm's dinner, and it showed in her brisk walk back to the interrogation room, which was just another add on to the irritation. Guardians had already flooded the room, also looking slightly shocked at the sudden appearance of a rogue worm.

"Look into getting this repaired immediately." Kiskla instructed to the first of The Guardians, who nodded affirmatively. Kiskla glanced backward at the Jedi Master, running a gloved hand through her sandy hair and brushing off some of her fabrics.

"Well, considering you just brought in a very wanted assassin and now he's not here to try," she shrugged at the unforseen occurrence that had just taken place "I did say you could have an audience with The Sheyf, how about over dinner?" Hey, that was a pretty smooth transition. She was obviously not too shaken from the giant worm thing, and almost losing her legs. Cool.

Either way, the pair did need to make their way back to Kiffu, so towards the transport she walked, the silent entourage following suit (except the ones in charge of finding repairs for the interrogation room. Those poor suckers had to stay behind).

Jacen Cavill

I Am Death
Display of power done for the day, Wraith simply backed up from the now defeated Anzat. Two Jedi Masters in their prime was simply too much for the one darksider to take on, and the interrogation had been a failure up to this point. Darron almost could kick himself for how it had gone, and he didn't like the feeling of failure. Another inhalation of his feelings took place, and he exhaled to let the Force feel the void. His emotions cleared, he could think clearly finally. Yet, that tingling feeling his Kiffar partner was feeling was beginning to nag at him. It was akin to vertigo, or your stomach dropping from a long fall. It wasn't dread, but the tingle rose up his spine, sending the hairs on the back his neck on edge and the warrior was taken back by what he was feeling. Looking around, he saw the sands moving. Gravity was shifting, and his own legs began to feel heavier as the ground began shaking. Looking around, he took a few steps back, from the center of the room where the disturbance was happening.

Then it happened.

In an instant he dropped to his knees and tried to reach out, tried to do anything to stop what was happening. Life was life after all, and he was also tasked with keeping himself ground and not sliding forth while pushing against Kiskla. Seeing the predicament she was in, he gave a subtle push against her feet to keep her from going in as well. It all happened so fast, and while he was a Master of the Force, he did have his limits. Whatever effort he gave to save the assassin was half-hearted at best, and deep down inside he knew that as well. As soon as the creature had fed, and was gone, Darron looked around for a moment. Kiskla seemed fine, but he almost gave an audible sob.

Did I really just do that?

The thought haunted him as he stood up with her, and he knew full well what he had done. She didn't know it, but he had held her back from sliding too. That energy he used to save her, even when she didn't need his help, could have been used to save the Anzat. Darron had just played god for a moment, and it was for a selfish action. That alone caused the calm facade he always kept on his face to break for just a split second. A hole had formed in his wall, and he scrambled internally to fix what had been broken apart by such a simple action. Reflexive in intent it had been, and that's what had bothered Darron. There hadn't been a time in years that he had done something so selfish, and it was like a light bulb had lit up inside his head. How many times had he picked duty over everything, the code over anyone?

Wraith had just chosen the life of Kiskla Grayson, what did that mean?

Shell shocked to his core, Wraith hardly even breathed as he followed the Sheyf out of the room. All of his attention was focused inward on himself, and how he had just failed. It was becoming a little more difficult to breathe, and for the longest time he just wanted to run away. The little boy he had been was rearing his head, and Darron couldn't believe what he had allowed to happen. Failure to follow duty was the biggest sin he could commit, and he had just used his power to influence an event and now someone was dead who could be alive. I failed, I failed him without hesitation for her? Why?

"I did say you could have an audience with The Sheyf, how about over dinner?"

Then he was looking at her, and he was paying her more attention as the world came back into focus. His eyes met hers, and the pairs of blues just focused on each other for a moment. At the surface of his thoughts, he did everything he could to hide the raging guilt he was feeling. Emotion wasn't something he did, ever, it was the one thing he hid from everyone. Even when she had seen him at his lowest, his confidence had been gone. Now, it was present, but he was so conflicted. So despite how he wanted to talk to her about what had just happened, he simply shrugged. Trying to feign indifference and the fact that he would be required to do this. Please, please see something is wrong with me. It was a quiet plea from the little boy inside, the one who was always afraid of failure. A moment passed, and nothing happened so he simply replied. There was no need to make this something it didn't need to be, even if he was in shock at how he viewed the woman before him now.

"Yes, that sounds great. Is there any way I can get out of this attire and clean some blood off of me at least?"

A few hours later...

A splash of water across his face made him snap back to his senses, and he stood there appraising himself in the mirror. Synth skin covered his prosthesis so he could not wear the glove he typically did. Scars littered his torso, marring what would have been something to be proud of. Various burns were present, and fully clean he could see all the marks from all of his battles. Each one was a testament to his survival, and as his blue eyes traced over his own form, he remembered each one and how he had gotten the mark. "Foolish that so many see me as infallible, if they only knew the truth." Taking the black shirt off the rack, he quickly buttoned it up and tucked it into the pants he was wearing. His normal attire lay on his bed in the quarters he had been given for the night. Where there were braids he simply let his long hair fall down and get out of his way. Taking the coat too, he slid it on and looked at the suit he was wearing for a moment. It wasn't him, and it wasn't Jedi.

Maybe that's what I need, just to be Darron Wraith for a while. That might get me to relax a little?

He didn't have the answers, and as he left the quarters he walked alone to the place where Kiskla had told him to be waiting. So he did, and wondered exactly why she was at the forefront of his mind. More troubling to him, was why did he try and help her when she didn't need it? Why had he been so selfish?

@[member="Kiskla Grayson"]
Oddly enough, with so much to talk about, the transport back to Kiffu had been silent. Which was okay, because Kiskla was so irritated that any verbal expression was likely to expel in a snap. And although she wasn't privy to @[member="Darron Wraith"]'s thoughts, it seemed the silence didn't bother him either.

When they touched down, Kiskla had given instructions for Darron to be escorted to a comfortable guest living situation. Then, she parted ways to hold an audience of her own with the Sheyf, only to find that he was purely uninterested in entertaining any sort of company from The Republic. Her father, S'het, was like constantly talking to Kiskla's bad side. Especially when it came to Jedi. His distaste for The Force and it's users often muted his better, strategic judgement and he immediately scorned them. Since that was the case, Kiskla offered to hold the conversation and filter through the information to only repeat what Kiffu as a planet would find informative.

This daunting task didn't bother her in the slightest. To be completely honest, the idea of sitting through a discussion between herself and her friend was unbearably uncomfortable and almost made her wan at the thought. Besides, this meant she could actually speak with Darron without having to worry about the intentions of The Axis.

To make up for the loss of The Anzat, and his body, Kiskla considered the possibility of visiting the morgue to fill the time between the present and dinner. That's where the Anzat's brother was, and he had been tasked with the same mission. As she crossed to her quarters, she was informed that they'd already run a mental test and already incinerated the corpse. Their rushed actions were mostly fuelled by contempt toward the assassin. Well. At this point, she was in a corner with no more options to seek out any sort of insight, and that pitted feeling of frustration sat in her stomach like a heavy stone.


The need to be a General in uniform was over for the evening. And she didn't want an uptight feeling to continue over dinner. She'd greeted him with formality, and maintained that through the afternoon. All through their relationship, she had been guarded but tonight she was in complete control. She had no reason to be particularly guarded. She was genuinely pleased with his delivery and his appearance on her planet. So much so, that it almost aided in the erosion of the stomach stone.

The room that had been prepared was made entirely of sandstone. It was spacious, round and bare, save for the flickering torches that lined the walls, a six foot table in the middle, and two curved couches that were positioned near a flickering fire in the back of the room.

Kiskla had been sitting at the table when Darron arrived, and she stood to greet him with an almost relieved look. She had been worried that perhaps her initial suggestion for an audience had been too forward, but at that time she had meant her father. That little hiccup had just conveniently fallen through.

Like the other Jedi Master, Kiskla had taken the time to rinse the sand from her scalp and beneath her nails. Both of their armour was hanging in their quarters, and custom to Kiffu they were clad in black. Despite the thoughtful tailoring of her evening-wear, the colour black was selected because it was the only colour that blood simply disappeared into. All of her casual clothes were often onyx, so she could still maintain a straight face even if potentially wounded. Morale and confidence was often half the battle for a leader.

"The head Sheyf couldn't make it tonight." Kiskla greeted, gesturing to his seat across from her as a few assistants filed into the room with steaming platters "So, I'm your audience." Hoping to overcome whatever awkward potential there could be, Kiskla immediately allowed her charismatic charm to flood the room with a faux disappointed expression on her face, mocking his unlikely reaction to her news. As the assistants set the plates in front of them, Kiskla grinned coyly "I promise this time it's not gungun pie."

Jacen Cavill

I Am Death
@[member="Kiskla Grayson"]

Standing there, he felt completely devoid of every title he usually associated with himself. The title of GrandMaster had been lost long ago, an act of him giving it up himself. He didn't feel like a Master of the Force, nor did he even want to view himself as a member of the Council or a Jedi even. In that moment, he just let himself be Darron Wraith the man. There was no robes, no armor, and definitely no lightsabers on this occasion. Taking another breath, he walked in only to find Kiskla sitting there in an outfit he had to do his best to not look too hard at. I have no clue how that even works, he thought to himself. Years and years of mental conditioning forced his eyes from only the quickest of glances as he met her eyes, even as the tattoo her face highlighted the blue orbs even further. Looking there he started to reflect further on everything that had happened, and against thoughts he didn't need to be thinking about surfaced and that guilt from earlier kicked his walls down again and came roaring in as well.

What's that word she uses? He thought to himself as he looked at the table and the couches in the room. The soft light from the torches only added to the suffocating atmosphere, but he held fast. Instead of letting any of what he was feeling show, he simply thought a simple word to himself: Shavit.

That's all he thought, and the knot in his chest relaxed accordingly as she rose to greet him. "Whe-" She cut him off in the middle of his sentence, and in eleven words she had so eloquently answered his questions. Well, with the exception of why he wasn't there. Darron wasn't one for politics, so he simply let the details stay a mystery to him. Simply throwing his hands up in mock defeat, he let some humor flow to make it less awkward on his end as well. "Well, alas guess I'm stuck with you again it seems." Taking the chair she had pointed to, he slid it back and sat down while platters were brought to them. Across the table from him sat someone whom he had been through a great deal with, and tonight all their titles were gone. "So, if he's not here is it safe for me to call you by your name or do I need to keep up the formalities?" His tone was serious, but the grin on his face let it be known he was being fully sarcastic. There was no way he was going to call her royalty unless he had to, he even absconded from being called Jedi Master at all times.

A title was nothing if the name you had meant nothing as well.

"So, if it's not gungan pie, what is it this time?" Another laugh, it was coming a little easier the more he faked joy. The attendant smiled at him, and he flashed his grin right back at them. "Sir, it's a selection of meats from across the galaxy. You simply pick a cut that you like, and if you have any allegies we need to know before you eat." Darron simply picked a few cuts of steak, or whatever he hoped was and placed them on his plate with other assorted cooked flora from across the galaxy. It seemed no cost had been too great, and he recognized a great many of these from various other dinners and functions he had been forced to. Cutting a piece of the meat, he at it for a moment as(you guessed it) alcohol was poured into their champagne glasses. Taking a sip of his, he appreciated what was before him before taking a small break. "So why didn't you father show? No love for a Jedi who tried to save his diplomat? Or was he busy trying to make sure his borders couldn't be so easily intruded by Anzat assassins and members of the Jedi Order?"

His gaze threatened to go to her plunging neck line again, and instead went up to her eyes. Frustration showed, and he simply settled for a spot on her cheek to look at so he wouldn't appear rude.

Shavit, he thought to himself.
Stuck with her. Typical of a man, he was so charming with his words. Also typical of a man, she couldn't help but catch that slight deterrence of his eyes. For the most part, Kiskla was very reserved with her dress, but at times her apparel did compliment her assets. Her justification? She was young, and if you've got it, flaunt it. Besides, her house, her rules right?

"It's not him you have to be worried about." Kiskla replied, dropping her voice to a whisper, as if about to divulge some sort of clandestine secret "There are others in here who might be offended," she glanced toward one of the dark haired women in the room who was busy pouring (and slightly ogling) Darron's drink "Right Shey'ra?" Being called out by name snapped the woman's attention back to focus and she released a slight chuckle and a nod. She was older than Kiskla, somewhere in her mid-thirties; and her tattoos revealed her heritage. Two strips across her nose; they had been servants of the Royal Family since the Vos clan was in power.

"But in all honesty, please don't."

When someone has an accent, they are deaf to it. But between the immediate transaction of asking what was being served, to the answer, Kiskla could definitely hear the slight wear from the desert on her Kiffar associate's tongue. There wasn't a stark contrast, but definitely an octave or so, and in that observation for a brief moment while Darron cut she considered if she sounded like that. Probably, but she had been born on Naboo so that would add a different twist as well..all of these self-absorbed thoughts were cut off when Darron spoke. She had been mindlessly operating, like a pre-programmed eating machine and had to stop mid-chew to think of an intriguing reply. She almost choked at his suggestion that her father had no love for a Jedi -- the rest of the sentence was lost.

"He figured I'm less subjected to your mindtricks." Kiskla replied with a wry shrug. She let the comment resonate as she reached for her own sparkling and crisp drink. Lest we forget, Kiskla was one heck of a pansy when it came to drinking, so on her own turf she kept it light. Should her company request anything heavier, it could be provided. She set down her glass and rested her hands on her lap for a moment of honesty, releasing a breath "Although your latter statement is more accurate." Her slightly perked nose wrinkled as she decided she might as well continue with her explanation. Up until recently, Kiskla had been distrusting of..well..everyone. And unfortunately, @[member="Darron Wraith"] had received the brunt of that apprehension during their course together. There was no harm in selling her father out in the most honest way possible, heaven knows their relationship was strained enough as it was; "Even with the best of intentions Sheyf Freya has little regard for the Jedi, and I doubt he'll happily grant access for trespassing as you suggested earlier. Unless there's something in it for him." Her father was selfish in the end. He'd spent years living his life for one person, and now, that same perception guided him and therefore, by extension, blinded him at times when it came to the best choices for his planet. Perhaps that's still why he favoured the Protectorate.

"I'm sure we can reach some sort of agreement eventually this evening. If not, I do have some say in these sorts of things." One couldn't tell if she was joking, or entirely serious save for her tell-tale knavish simper at the tail end of her statement.

"Speaking of the Republic, what have you been up to? Teaching Padawans on Coruscant...leading the Order?" She rolled her fork in the air to coax the conversation out of him, switching gears from the potentially political conversation to a more colloquial one.