Star Wars Roleplay: Chaos

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"We shouldn't be here." [Carré]

Lorrd
Lorrd University

"We shouldn't be here."

These were the words, the very first words, spoken by anyone on the bridge of the newly re-christened Charon Starship Brigand. They were words heavy with multiple layers of meaning. The crew knew it. The Captain knew it. The Noghri body guard who spoke them especially knew it.

Dissero knew it, too. But, given the naked honesty of the statement, it took him slightly off-guard.

"I don't like the idea of not being allowed somewhere," the Archivist replied.
"Perhaps these are things you should consider when you go making enemies with one of the largest and most profoundly savage tribes in the galaxy," the Noghri replied.
"You say that as if I did it on purpose."
"You did do it on purpose."
"Make enemies? No, never meant to do that. And the word you're looking for, Mahet, is Empire, not tribe."
"I did that on purpose," Mahet leered, "they are no ...Empire."

A pause followed by a cutting laugh, "Not anymore, they aren't."

Dissero didn't like to think of it as shouldn't be or not being allowed. That would require someone to have taken his permission away. Far as he was concerned, as one of the rising scholars of the galaxy, he had every right to should be exactly where he was.

It was more a matter of the difficulty of being there and staying there.
It was difficult to be somewhere and stay there when someone didn't want you there. Or when someone wanted you dead. A lot of someones, as the case may be, but he was quite certain those people were long since distracted by the plight of war on their opposite boarders. Who was going to be watching little Lorrd anyway?

"Set her down, keep her hot."

Those were the last words spoken within the bridge of the Brigand before its Lord disappeared through the side hatch and out into the bustle of the starport. Soon enough, after a short time of travel, he arrived at the Lorrd University where he fully intended to do a bit of research.

@[member="Carré Inirial"]
 
Fingers tapped across the controls as she stepped on the accelerator, zipping through Lorrd City traffic with a once-more practiced ease. It had take months for her to become accustomed to her life once more. It was difficult enough when one was ill for a brief period of time...but dealing the after-effects of five hundred some odd years of stasis took considerably longer.

Carré sighed softly, some days, if she were to admit it, she still didn't feel like herself. Some days, she felt the weight of those centuries weighing down on her. Reminding her of what she had been and what she had lost. But it didn't bear dwelling on for much longer. There was, after all, nothing she could do about it.

One hand lifted away from the controls, reaching to tuck a stray raven lock back amidst its upswept brethren. A few minutes more saw to her arrival at her intended destination. The imposing entrance to Lorrd University's archives lay before her, the sprawling grounds and complex littered with students rushing here and there, professors walking at a more sedate pace, beings of all walks of life congregating in a center of such a wealth of knowledge.

Carré smoothed out her sweater with her free hand as she walked, a sleek bag dangling from the other. Her stiletto boots sounded particularly loud in the relative peace the inside of the structure posessed. Colorful mosaic transparisteel windows flooded the foyer with multicolored light, where she paused briefly to admire the effect. She'd donated the funds to see them restored, the work had been performed beautifully.

Continuing on, she found a space to spread out her things, along with the pile of flimsis and datacards that had been retrieved at her request. Carré seated herself and began to sift through what the archivist had found for her.
 
There was a cool breeze on the air, one that Dissero was infinitely aware of as it passed across his freshly shorn and shaved facade. Having forgone the growth of beard and 'stache for his cleaner-cut version, the man at least no longer looked the part of a person of questionable intention. Today he dressed to his more respectable side - a man of tact and couth, intelligence and style. Not that he was ever without such things, but now he just looked it.

Polished shoes carried him with some amount of purpose through the entrance of the University and down the halls. He passed beyond the front desk without stopping, without asking for direction to one place or another. The thing about being a man of knowledge; you always knew where to find it. There was a sixth sense about a person like that and it lead them straight to the source, every time. At least it did for him.

He arrived in the library on short accord, sparing a quick word with the attending Archivist who stopped him.

"ID Sir?" the man asked quietly.
"Hm?" Dissero asked, distracted momentarily by the colorful array of windows lining the hall. A nice touch to what was usually such a somber atmosphere, "Oh, yes of course." He produced his personal datapad, idly allowing his gaze to wander across the stacks and people milling about.
"Lord Amadeus Darke...the Amadeus Darke, Prince of Kuat?" the Archivist peered over his glasses in a short order of disbelief.
"Yes, that would be me," Dissero nodded, smiling faintly.
"You're a long way from home, what brings you to Lorrd University?"
"The windows," he replied simply, hands in his pockets, rising to the balls of his feet for a beat.
"Ahm...windows, Sir?" the Archivist blinked, nonplussed.
"Oh yes," Dissero nodded again, "I've heard quite a deal about them. I'm trying to track down the architect. I'd like to have them replicated in my new manor." The man's smile spread, eyes lingering over a woman seated at a table not far off. A lovely woman who looked strangely...familiar.
 
A faint sigh emanated from her as she gently scrolled through the latest offerings the archivist had discovered within his collections for her. There was nothing specific that she could call familiar, only the generalities. The sites of battles, their dates, and their outcomes...all things she could recall as having happened through the haze of her memory. It was strange to view such events through the eyes of history so many years removed, when she'd lived through them.

There was little about the order and the members themselves, unfortunately, which drew an expression of disappointment onto her features. Perhaps, Carré mused, it was time to join the galaxy at large once more. Surely whatever current Sith were in power would have archives she could peruse in return for her services as a Knight. It was less than ideal, certainly, but it would likely be her only option. Unless another opportunity presented itself, of course.

A voice filtered through the air and caught her attention, its rich tone settling with a pleasant warmth in her ears. She turned in her seat, casting a lingering glance over a slender shoulder. The sight that greeted her was a most pleasant one to say the very least, his blue gaze as enticing as it had been when she'd first seen it across her crowded ballroom. It elicited a soft, slow smile, true pleasure lighting her features as their gazes met.

"My Lord Darke...what a pleasure to see you here on Lorrd once more." Carré said warmly, rising from her seat and closing the distance between them, her hand extended. "To what do I owe the pleasure of your company?"
 
With the Institute's Archivist muttering something about, I'll see what I can find out for you... Dissero nodded, though his gaze never left the woman as she turned, fell into a moment of recognition, and allowed herself to be sidetracked from whatever project was at hand. The man smiled faintly as she approached and took her hand in his own, lifting it to his lips where he planted a warm kiss on her knuckles.

"Miss Inirial," gruff baritone uttered these words over a small bow, her hand still in his, "I am here for research ... and the glass."

For a moment the man's blue eyes cut from her, drifting across the myriad hues of tinted artwork through which warm rays of daylight poured, "A riot of color in this dreary gray world. What do you know about the architect who designed and installed them?"

@[member="Carré Inirial"]
 
There was something to be said for a handsome face possessed of impeccable manners, and a set of blue eyes that rivaled any gemstone she'd ever seen. Her face and posture betrayed nothing of her thoughts, only the pleasure that seeing him had brought, which was genuine. They had passed a most marvelous evening together at the ball, one of the earliest fetes she had hosted upon her awakening.

She had harbored the hope of seeing him again before the present moment, but such was the way of things. Likely his own duties had kept him as busy as hers had kept her. Well, duties that included slaughtering her family and consolidating control of the company that had made them their fortune in gemstones and precious metals. But duties nonetheless.

"Ahhh...the glass. Exquisite craftsmanship, is it not?" She replied, admiring his features with an appreciative glance even as he admired the glass. She left her hand in his, the small intimate gesture reminding her that she was very much alone on Lorrd. Her servants had proven resourceful and she could not have managed without them...but companions, they were not. Not even her most trusted Rhys.

"Otelia Anarrmak. A fine local artisan I discovered here in Lorrd City. The design was inspired, I'm told, by an ancient manuscript on glassworking that resides here in the archives. I could affect an introduction, if you're interested."

@[member="Lord Dissero"]
 
"Hmm," Dissero returned his gaze to the woman, easy and unassuming as he took in her features, "most fortunate. Yes, please do." He maintained his hold of her hand, for what he couldn't be sure. Perhaps because she allowed it, or perhaps because there was something scintillating afforded by the touch. A curious sort of phenomenon that occurred only while in the company of dark others - the feeling of suspense and familiarity, expectations. A feeling of going home.

It was those black powers of hers, the very same he'd been raised by. Funny how you never knew you missed something until it was so long gone.

He gave her hand a squeeze before folding it over the crook of his opposite arm and smoothly directed her back to the table she'd previously vacated, "Let me not take you from your work. What is it you're searching for within all these stacks of information?" Naturally the Archivist couldn't pass up intrigue or curiosity. The man who had risked life and limb to take half a galaxy's knowledge and power for his own would hardly be brushed aside by stained glass windows.

@[member="Carré Inirial"]
 
"Ghosts." she replied, even as she delighted in the gallantry he bestowed upon her as he took her back to her chair.

A gentle tilt of her head saw her silvered gaze pass across his profile, a nameless something stealing across the back of her mind. A familiarity, more than the acquaintance they had shared some months before. Something deeper. Darker. Akin to the energies she had tasted first all those centuries ago.

But they had lain dormant for long, that Carré could be certain of nothing. The barest flicker of shadowed eyelids was the only outward sign of the turmoil she found herself now mired in. To trust the instincts that had betrayed her or to risk possible loss? She reached down with her free hand, fingertips brushing across the activation of a tiny holoprojector.

Upon activation, a bluish-grey representation of Korriban appeared. "Just over five hundred years ago, the Dark Sith Order was at the height of its power. It's capital was at Korriban, though it's holdings reached various systems across the galaxy. I am..." she paused, her soft voice trailing off as she wondered how to phrase what needed to be said next.

"...researching its collapse and any information related to those who served it at the time."

There...truth, though rather bare of detail. How was one to broach the topic of having been one of those who served the order at the time, over five hundred years prior. Why yes, thank you, I do look particularly well for someone who should have died several centuries ago...

It sounded preposterous, even to Carré's ears, and she had lived it.

But she wanted...no, needed...to know what had happened.
 
The man's smile grew broad as she explained her research, blue eyes taking in her notes and choice of literature and, of course, the holographic projection of a planet he was ... quite familiar with. It had been a short while since he last stepped foot on those barren wastelands, and though he'd not spent much time there personally - only enough to sate his curiosities and fulfill certain duties to the reigning Sith overlord at any given time - the stories he grew up with centered around so many chapters written there. The rise and fall of the Brotherhood of the Sith, the eventual absorption of the old into that of the Dark Sith Order. His thoughts momentarily lingered on that of his mother and for the very first time he pondered letting someone in on his family's secret.

"A coincidence," he started, gravelly tone measured as he considered his words. Carré was not the only one skilled in truth bare in detail.

"I happen to be rather well learned on the history of Korriban. The old Sith Empires are something of an obsession of mine. All that power, gained and lost again and again over millenia. A pity there isn't someone around from that place and time that could speak those stories." Gaze lifting to his companion, Dissero considered her a moment.

Perhaps there was a secret he could share with her.

"My research is quite extensive, pulled from many resources across the galaxy. You're welcome to it, if you like, but I'm afraid it's rather far," his eyes trailed along her face, "from Lorrd."

@[member="Carré Inirial"]
 
"Is it?"

Her voice was soft, the question lingering the air between them. It bore a two-fold meaning, as many things did, and could be ascribed to either of the statements he had made. A faint, delicate sigh passed her lips, that was only barely audible. She shifted slightly at his side, absently leaning into him as she reached out a fingertip to the holographic image. The briefest brush made it flicker and zoom in, revealing a tiny cup of a valley in the mountains north of the Academy. Details floated in the air above the focus of the holoprojector, making her frown.

"There used to be a temple there..." Carré began, pausing for a breath as memories rose unbidden in her mind like so many souls trying to crawl out of a damned existence. She swallowed and continued, her voice even softer than before. "...dedicated to some long dead Sith Lord whose name was lost to the ravages of time. It was in severe disrepair when last I saw it. But I can still see the towering columns and the domed ceiling...even the crumbling, blood-stained altar. But this...shows no trace of it at all."

What little breath she had wanted desperately to emerge as a hiss of pain, but she had learned a great deal of self-control in the year since she had awakened. The palm of her right hand began to bleed as she gazed down at it, the branded flesh she kept hidden reemerging bit by excruciating bit. Carré gave up trying to keep it hidden, letting the flesh of her hand rearrange itself as it wished to. Glowing with a sullen crimson energy that began to dissipate after a moment, the mark of the Dark Sith Order was clearly visible. It looked as fresh and raw as the day Silencia had branded it into her palm.

She should have known better than to keep it hidden for as long as she had. It always resurfaced in such a manner, and each time took longer to heal over.

A delicate glance and an extended tendril of darkness assured her that no one was looking their way for the moment...with a deft mental touch, her delicate white silk handkerchief slid from her bag and helpfully pressed itself to her palm, obscuring the mark from his view.

There was no use dissembling any further - what her knowledge of Korriban hadn't revealed, the brand had made certain to do so for her.

"I could tell you the stories you wish to hear."
 
These dark things were not so easily hidden or lost from the man who had become a master of hiding dark things and making them lost. To this day his treasure trove remained ever the mystery to the rest of the galaxy. There had been only two people that had known where everything had been hidden, and one of them was now dead. The other stood gazing as this darkside morsel, transfixed by those curious energies that circled her soul. Blue eyes drove downwards at the tugging of his senses, catching the glimpse of her palm just before it, too, was hidden away. He could smell her blood on the air, even as faint as it was, those keen senses took it in like the aroma of a feast.

Dissero took up her hand in his own and gently tugged at the white material until the corrupted flesh beneath could be seen. The man's lip twitched at the sight of blood and for a moment his grasp grew firm around her wrist. The scent ... was intoxicating. He forced his gaze away, drawing it back to her own.

"I would very much like to hear your stories," his voice was low as he took the silk and carefully, gently twisted and tied it around her hand, "you should be more careful handling the books, m'Lady. Papercuts are no laughing matter." He spoke plainly now, cheshire grin gracing his features, gaze lifting as the Archivist returned.

"Here are the articles you requested, Lord Darke. Is there anything else I can assist you with?"

"No, thank you. Miss Inirial here has volunteered her extensive knowledge of the architecture. As a matter of fact we were just about to leave. Please see that her research is transferred to my ship outside."
 
"Thank you, my Lord...your kindness is most appreciated. I should most certainly take better care in future."

Silver eyes flashed with something nameless, as if a leviathan stirred in the depths of the abyss, newly woken. She had slept through more than five hundred years of history, lost everyone and everything she'd once had the temerity to care about. But now...one year of a new life...one year of wondering where she might fit within the galactic scheme once more...and opportunity presented itself.

In such a handsome package, replete with a darkness akin to her own.

With an imperious tilt to her chin the archivist would find familiar, she turned only enough to cast a brief silver glance at him. "Please do so. Gather everything I have here at the table and the items I asked to have retrieved." A sculpted brow lofted until he nodded deferentially and gathered everything into his arms. Her sleek leather bag remained, which she swiftly gathered into her pristine hand.

The brand sent echoes of pain through her blood, sharpening her senses as they had not been for centuries. It was as if the fog had finally lifted away the last of its tendrils from around her, and she could finally see and feel once more. It was...startling to say the very least. Her gaze flickered once more, silver rising to meet cerulean blue.

A smile...small and indescribable, flirted with her lips, uncertain if it wished to stay there. But stay it did, even as she put in a comm call to her home. Bless him, her Rhys voiced his concern in spite of well knowing his place. It was a freedom she allowed him, given his incredible usefulness and adaptability to any situation. "Be well, Rhys. Keep things in order while I am away."

-----------------------------------------------------------------​

The ice in her glass had mostly melted, diluting the drink to perfection as she took a sip. The silk of her handkerchief had been long since removed, the raw, angry brand sitting there as if it had turned everything upside down on her once more. At least this time she was grateful for it. Another sip saw her ready to finish the tale she'd begun.

"That assault on Theed, however, heralded an invasion of Naboo. It was a sight to behold. Beautiful in all of its fury...lightsabers clashed between adepts of every level. Armies maneuvering for the most advantageous position..." silver eyes slipped away, their focus going distant.

Carré could still her the familiar snap-hiss and clash of lightsabers and the weapons fire echoing around them, could still smell the acrid smoke of buildings on fire and flesh still screaming as it burned. One never forgot their first war.

Gently shaking her head, her expression softened as she met his gaze. "Forgive me. I...still find myself getting lost in the memories. Time has done little to dull them, a fact for which I am most thankful." Blinking, she looked past him to the starfield beyond the window, and then back to him.

"Dare I ask how long I've been going on? We...we've arrived already?"
 
The Archivist listened with quiet, rapt attention to the woman's every word, a quaint sense of amusement playing unseen within his mind. How her voice echoed and drifted through his thoughts while he took her all in. His latest relic of the past, a woman of the flesh and darkness of the soul, to add to his trove. The man's mind worked tirelessly, spinning a permanent web of her words through his memories so that he might never forget. His sister didn't have to use the Force to help her remember, blessed as she was with an eidetic memory, but he'd picked up several tricks during his trek across the stars with a certain aged whiphid.

Invaluable tricks.

"Not quite as long as you think," Dissero replied, ashing his cigarette before taking another long draw. He sat in a plume of blue smoke, eyes glancing to a viewport as the stars reappeared in a jilted, fluid instance. They hadn't been traveling by hyperspace, but he'd neglected to inform her of this. The wonder of Otherspace was better saved for another place, another time, when she no longer felt weighted by the distance of her past. Beyond the duraglass the swirling orb of Vassek came into view.

"Memory is a difficult place to navigate. Stasis," his gaze fell upon her again, searching her expression, "can fog the mind for years. Perhaps I can be of some assistance to you. Cataloging memories is something of a specialty of mine."

The ship turned away from Vassek, curving along the path of orbit towards the planet's third moon. It sat like a dull pearl against the liquid black backdrop of space, its surface shrouded completely by a relentless fog. With a shudder the Charon ship, adoringly nicknamed The Klepto, broke through the atmosphere and swept low over the barren, rocky terrain. Gliding past a rise of stone spires, nose bent south, they descended upon a massive gorge that did not present itself until the second they passed over it, such was the absoluteness of the moon's fog. Passing through the ethereal realm of cloud, a blackness suddenly swallowed them whole.

Dissero stood from his seat after the trembling of the ship touching down upon landing gears. The engines wound to a low purr and their pilot appeared through a doorway.

"Carré this is Mahet," he introduced the smartly robed Noghri, "he is my only friend."

"Associate," Mahet corrected with a strained hiss and a short bow to the Lady, "you have no friends."

"You're probably right," Dissero smirked before leading Carré to the exit ramp and stepping out after her, "welcome to my home," his voice echoed at impossible lengths within the dank, cavernous hangar. Machinery could be heard churning gears as the last vestiges of dreary light filtering in through the fog at the hangar opening was shut out by a slab of metal.

At the far end towards a large arched gateway a massive statue of a kaleesh warrior with mechanical limbs stared balefully into the distance. The one and only General Grievous.

@[member="Carré Inirial"]
 
"I would welcome your assistance...there are some memories too precious to lose and I have found that I am beginning to forget."

She replied softly, dropping her gaze to the brand in her palm. A swirl of the glass and a long sip from it finished the contents and warmed her throat with the sweet burn of alcohol. Perhaps she had imbibed a bit too quickly, or her senses were sliding off-kilter once again, because it almost seemed as if the brand were healing far faster than it ought to.

Or, Carré mused, she was having another one of the episodes of confusion she'd begun to attribute to the stasis. But it didn't matter. The long familiar sensation of a ship touching down and its engines beginning to cool heralded their arrival. She rose in a smooth motion, setting the empty glass aside, and finding a smile to curl her lips.

"An honor to make your acquaintance, Mahet." the Lady replied with a soft tone, laced with more than a touch of mirth at the banter that passed between them.

Silver eyes blinked and adjusted to the level of light within the hangar, watching the haze, filtered light of the outside fade away with the closing of the door. They swept the length and breadth of the maddeningly massive hangar. A real smile danced across her features as her fingers entwined lightly with one another, steps carrying her forward. "This is...an unexpected surprise. What a marvelous sight to return to each time."

@[member="Lord Dissero"]
 
A pleased grin sat upon Dissero's face as he lead her by the statue, eyeing the ghastly thing. The man afforded it a nod - paying homage to the mind behind this genius alcove. He'd spent several years researching all the old greats in between projects and training, and many a time he'd come back to Grievous. After months of searching, following the trail of that haggard machine's legacy, he'd found it.

How useful it was to never need sleep when there was the light of a moon.

As they walked to palely lit halls he began to explain the significance of this location - the hidden castle sanctuary to the old General in his peak hours of devious plans and plots. The tour took them through dark halls adorned by further statues of the late kaleesh General in differing stages of his life. From the hangar through the main Sanctum, he then took Carré to the Sanctum Overlook; a grand chamber with tall windows that, dependent upon levels of fog, would oftimes offer a grand view of the gorge below. Mostly, though, the view was obscured by the clouds. It was set up now as a study and dining hall of sorts; the whole of Dissero's tome, article, and archive collection was now here organized along the walls. A large table surrounding a massive holoprojector stood at the center, there his notes and most recent research lay strewn about. The projector flashed the images of some unknown planet overhead, where it slowly spun. Towards the windows large overstuffed couches sat - absconded from the lounge of the Vaults and Archives he designed and built on Rudrig. The coffee table between them and the general area was littered with traveling robes, bags, things of use while living alone.

Dissero smiled fondly. This had been his primary living area as he rarely used his own bedchambers. The man muttered something about cleaning things up for her, but first there was something else he wanted to show her.

Leading her down the next level, the man took a short moment to enlighten Carré to the disengaged booby-traps left behind by Grievous. Most all the castle's fortifications and defenses had been reprogrammed after returning power to the complex, so there was little need to worry. Traversing a set of wide steps he brought Carré into another massive chamber. It had once been Grievous' warehouse, he explained, but he had taken the liberty of clearing out most of it to be used for a training arena. Taking it all in, he made a split second decision then.

"Tell me," the man said as he stepped a ways from her, "how long has it been since you've had a proper spar?" from within his robes Dissero drew a single lightsaber hilt and ignited the blade. Yes, this secret he would share with her, the first of many he felt.

[member="Carré Inirial"]
 
The statues reminded her that not all of the General had been machine. There was, even at the end, some manner of organic composition remaining with his shell. His deviousness of mind and creativity of plot were things to be marveled at, so she did, as Dissero led the way through the fortress itself.

The Sanctum Overlook…it was, even with the view primarily shrouded in clouds, breathtaking. Both for the view itself outside of the floor to ceiling windows, and for the view within the room arrayed on shelves and bookcases around the space. Slender fingertips ran across the spines of books, touched the ribbons wrapped around scrolls, and trailed along the edge of the holoprojector table. Finding a connection to the information contained within, and wondering if the answers she sought might not be here.

Before there was a spare moment to look, however, there was more he wished to show her. Carré followed him down to another level, making note of the security measures that were in place, boots clicking on the wide steps. The cavernous space opened up from its meager entrance to rather epic proportions. It was a training center...one that she would have drawn conclusion to belong to a practitioner of the Force.

She drew in a sharp breath, energy roused and licking through her veins with a languid warmth. Power surged, flickering about her hands as he spoke, and ignited a lightsaber. Silver eyes were wide, caught between surprise and a fierce pleasure as the door behind them clicked. Bless Mahet, she mused, glancing over her shoulder to see that her bag now rested on a bench.

"Some five hundred years..." she echoed softly, hands extended out from her sides, a pair of battered and worn lightsaber hilts flying to her hands. A tiny hiss of pain escaped her lips as her branded palm wrapped around the familiar object. Both blades ignited, cores of black with deep blue halos springing forth. Not the traditional colors, but then, she had never been traditional.

"...I had no idea...I..." she blinked, canting her head to the side. "...is the name you gave me a true one?" Carré asked as she stepped to the side and studied him intently.
 
Dissero smiled, eyes filled with a dark mirth. He moved forward, calmly turning the white blade in circles, passing the hilt from one hand to the other. Ambidexterity had its advantages for many things.

"I have many names," the Archivist replied as he began to close the distance between them, his deep voice filled the chamber, his own power reverberated throughout, "the one I gave you is more true than others and not known through our kind, consider yourself very, very special."

He struck the first blow, a wide arching movement easy for his companion to follow, that when parried swung shortly to a second swing in the opposite direction. These were sparring actions, made not with the intention to inflict damage but simply to test reaction time.

"Within the Empire of the Sith, I am known as Lord Dissero, Master of the Vaults, Keeper of the Shadows, Archivist of the Darkside, once Sith Lord of Rudrig turned traitor. But that was the past, I am now simply Dissero, a humble purveyor of stolen Sith secrets, artifacts and knowledge who calls the realm of the Fringe Confederacy his new home and its people his kin."

[member="Carré Inirial"]
 
Her head inclined politely as his words, though a warm, mirthful smile curled her lips for a brief moment. Special indeed. Power crashed against her senses, leaving her to try and catch her breath amidst the waves of it. He was certainly powerful...how she had missed feeling it when they'd first met was a mystery. But the Force had untold depths and mysteries she'd only begun to discover in her first lifetime.

In this one, perhaps she'd uncover a few more.

Carré was not disappointed in her reflexes as he struck two subsequent blows, black blades crashing against his white as they were deflected. Even she knew they were simply a test, but still...silver eyes flickered to an impenetrable black as wind whipped around her form. Chestnut curls were torn from their careful coif, the waist-length strands creating a nimbus around her.

The wind gusted away from her form and buffeted everything within a considerable radius, black blades slashing in a parallel downwards arc, from his left shoulder towards his right hip. Expecting the blades to be blocked as there was no Force enhancement to their speed, she continued the motion and spun to her right, bringing the blades at him once more in a Force-powered slash from overhead.

"I am now and have always been Lady Liana-Carré Vhirenne Inirial. Scion of House Inirial of Lorrd. But you know that already, Amadeus." she breathed, her voice slithering sharply through the air, the Force putting an edge on every syllable.

"But I was once Carré Inirial, Darth Ventus, disciple to the Lady Silencia, loyal servant of the High Council, High Knight of the Dark Sith Order on Korriban." Fury flashed in her ebon gaze as her fractured memories tried to overwhelm her as she sunk herself into the Force.


[member="Lord Dissero"]
 
The molten weapons scorched and screeched, sizzling through the air as they met, parried, met again. Dissero grinned into the whirlwind conjured around the Lady, blue eyes narrowing as he held against her overhead advance. Feet planted squarely at shoulder length beneath him, his right pushed back just enough to hold the balance, to empower the wall he presented to her.

"You're a relic of the past," his voice raised an octave to speak over the boom of the growing winds, blue eyes glancing off to the side as he watched her own manipulations of the Force scatter equipment and sparring weapons from the walls, "something this present galaxy is not kind to nor accepting of."

A sudden and powerful wave of energy surged forward from him to buffer and dissipate the winds around the woman. Dissero made for a second advance, moving faster this time now that he had her undivided attention, "You can't stay hidden on Lorrd forever, but you can't entrust your secret to just anyone lest you be taken advantage of ... or hunted," the slashes were quick, precise, with a determined strength, "unless you know who to trust."

[member="Carré Inirial"]
 
The dance was glorious.

Blades clashed, the familiar sound and scent pervading her senses and attempting to widen the fractures of her mind that memories slipped through unbidden. Blood flowed from the once-again raw wound on her palm, trailing along her skin and flitting through the air with each deliberate, severe movement.

The fury that lit her ebon gaze was soon accompanied by a sense of pleasure, as her body recognized more of the motions and her muscles warmed. It was what she had reveled in once upon a time, and Carré let loose a peal of dark laughter as the winds around her dissipated.

Her blades met his as the Force let her strength and speed, their movements gaining in strength and precision. "I am not content to remain hidden on Lorrd, but I see little aside from you to draw me off of it." she replied, her voice oddly soft considering the slashes she leveled at his form with dark intent even as her steps carried her backwards.

"Can I trust you?" Carré added after a moment, her balance precarious as he drove her back, and the brand in her palm pulsing with an energy she was having difficulty ignoring.

[member="Brom Burnside"]
 

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