Private To Meet The Future

[Mercy]

MERCY

EMPRESS | WARLORD | STAR-ARM

Location: ON BOARD THE TYRANNY | Planet: Had Abbadon | Tags: Anet Raine​

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Arris Windrun had assured her that the Tyranny would be absolutely perfect.

A ship that would drop a shadow over any world it decided to orbit. Gargantuan and rivaling the power of the other navies by its mere independent presence. Windrun presented it as a gift to Mercy, having commissioned it in secret, not even the Empress of the Core knew of its existence until the last stages of construction. Somehow Mercy thought that was the point of it, to rub it in her face that she had dropped the ball, being absent from the Core and the Covenant for so long. Like a hammer on her head: see? I can order a Super Star Destroyer to be made in your territory and you had no fucking idea, you moron.

Mercy didn't think that was very nice. She had already acknowledged her fault in these things and promised to do better.

The fact that Arris hadn't said that was besides the point. She could practically hear it in her voice anyway.

She had received a tour earlier in the day. Arris had practically been gloating all the way through, until they reached the temple that had been erect in Vestra Tane 's honor. That had killed her smile, especially the fact that her cybernetic meditation chamber was smack dab in the middle of it. Now she'd have to constantly traverse the memory of the one she murdered to get to her personal sanctum.

Mercy thought that was a nice touch.

Now Mercy was standing in her audience room, looking over the finer details of the architecture, while waiting for her guest to arrive.

Madrona A’Mia had been rather vocal about Anet, causing her to look into it a bit more, poking Windrun for more details. Apparently the young Apprentice, well on her way to Knighthood, was quite the enterprising individual.

The Empress of the Core wanted to see this for herself.

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ERASE THE PAST

 

[Anet Raine]

Mercy
Robes | Mask | Lightsaber​

Anet was tall. Certainly not the monstrous Titan that was their Empress, but she carried herself with pride. A pale blue thing, crowned in white threads, with icy eyes that fell deep, deep, deep into an inner realm of violence and depravity. Wrapped in zeyd black robes, fit perfectly to her form, with a dark jade, Ghorman twill trim. Cloak abandoned - for it was not needed. There was no wind or dust to weather, and Anet did not shiver on arctic worlds, and found herself comfortably at home in the cool atmosphere of the dreadful ship.

Her lightsaber bounced at her hip with every step, a scuffed and damaged thing. And tucked within the layers of her robe was a source of darkness that even pierced the noise of that hell which she was about to enter. Without her mask, Anet's connection to the Force was quieted, no different than the unworthy. Only her self-experimentation with torture techniques, A'Mia's spores, and Lowe's formula gave her the mental discipline and fortitude to resist the passive influences that affected lesser minds aboard.

A flick of her wrist directed the ceremonial guard to part the doors that led up to Mercy's domain, an audience chamber fit for one who called herself Empress of the Core.

She picked up her step and marched right on in, before finally stopping a short distance from where Mercy was.

"You summoned me, My Lord."

It wasn't a question.

 

[Mercy]

Anet Raine

Mercy turned, taking in the image of Anet marching into the room as if she owned it.

Contrary what people would assume that didn't piss Mercy off. No, that is what a Sith ought to be. Hungry, chasing for more and only as differential as their own power limited them to be. She breathed in, smelling Anet's heart, feeling the blood running through her frigid veins. But there was something off with her too.

Itchy hands, corruption oozing.

It was interesting coming from an apprentice.

"So I did." Mercy finally said, eyes flicking down to meet Anet's gaze. "My darling Madrona A’Mia has been telling me all about you." She finally moved to sit down on the throne away from Throne.

Made to fit, carved out of Humbarine obsidian-ore, ringed with Stormglass.

"So I wanted to see you for myself. See if you lived up to all the hype suddenly swirling around you."

The moment Mercy sat down, her state of mind flooded the audience room, amplified by the stormglass. Hunger, desire, dark clouds infiltrating the air of the room.

It would be confirmed there to Anet, that the stories about Mercy were true.

Hunger ran through the Empress' veins like blood.

 

[Anet Raine]

Mercy
Robes | Mask | Lightsaber
​

Posture straight, hands clasped behind her back, eyes fixed on the Sith Lord. Anet tilted her head ever-so-slightly at the passing mention of her Sith Master. So, she and Mercy were acquainted? Well enough to chatter? Either that or the Empress had a clever tongue and an appetite for provoking people with the idea that she knew them. That perhaps, they ought to be careful, for Mercy might catch them in a lie.

"I am pleased to hear that my efforts have found their way to your ear, My Lord."

Then, Mercy sat down, and her passions flooded through the room - into Anet like a ghost seeking possession. Her muscles tensed, jaw clenched, and hands balled into fists while she allowed the overwhelming strength of Mercy's animal instincts to pass. It was not unlike braving a flood. Stupid to even try, but necessary all the same to filter out weaklings from the crop of true Lords-in-training.

She swallowed. Hard. As if relearning how to breathe before she spoke again. Her eyes never left the Titan, though they were sharper now than before.

"Do you seek demonstration, or conversation, My Lord?"

Anet was ready to accommodate anything.