What Dreams Are Made of

[Petra Cavataio]

[member="Darth Metus"]

In the moment of Petra fighting with herself, there was a moment that reminded her what she had done over the last twenty years. Well, the things that were not related to numbing the pain with sticks and hiding at the bottom of a bottle. One was adopting a Mandalorian. An acted so out of character for Petra, she lied and withheld all the important details from him. All because the boy had beautiful darkness so interwoven in the fates’ threads that it was pure art. With that memory, Petra used the moments to search for the connection.

Focusing on the ties to the spirits and energies of the force, the space she was existing with her mind filled with strings. Each one vibrating and glowing differently to the ones around it. It was her visualization of lives that the force flowed through. Her hand reached out to the strings. Those touched by the fingertips gave her a sense of who they were not. All so got from the feelings was a sense of familiarity or not. Everything about the person was not available to her. Walking through and touching each one with her fingertips, she was looking for the mark. One that she placed on him like she had done to a select few through time.

In the real-world time had even moved a second while in her head, the search had gone on for an hour. As the mind could process quickly, she had felt so many feelings from the strings. Some were so foreign but a few were familiar. She did feel the mark which turned out to be her Mira. However, her finger caressed a string that had the mark. Stopping in her tracks, Petra’s finger swirled around the string to cause it to wrap around. The touch, feelings, and mark allowed her to focus. It was the man she was looking for.

Petra’s other hand grabbed onto the string as the other in the space disappeared. Tightening the hold, she pulled on it like climbing up a wall. It was the visualization of her driving deeper into the need to focus harder to speak to him. With the pull and focus, the blackness of the empty space sped up in a zoom to become a room. Petra was standing at the foot of the bed looking at Isley sleeping.

The silence of the room ended as Petra firmly, commandingly and of course, loudly broke the silence. “Get up, son… it’s time to talk.”

 

[Malok]

Ryloth
Local Time: 02:17

In the dark of the night she was tossing and turning.

The cycle shared between the Master and the Apprentice was one that had endured since their relationship began. In times of agony, when rest was stolen from their dreams, one would always come to the other. The black of night was always to be a place of respite and peace; but having been scarred as they had, Darth Metus and [member="Srina Talon"] had many sleepness nights. And on those evenings, no words had to be spoken.

The door was opened, and together they would rest.

This was one such evening. It was a rarity that the transgressions of the Sith Lord ever rubbed against his conscience. He never bat an eye at the lives he had sacrificed in the name of practicing his craft. He never lost a wink of sleep over the direction his ambitions took him. But above Maramere, he had made a choice. In order to protect his Confederacy, Darth Metus eliminated a ship.

And any other time, this would not have been cause for alarm nor guilt. A literal terrorist that had plagued his worlds was making an escape aboard this vessel. And the Sith lashed out as would any warrior on any battlefield. But. Aboard this ship, helpless and captive, was his own flesh and blood. His baby sibling, Ginnie. By exterminating the terrorist's escape, he also exterminated his sister. And for the first time that he could remember, he lost sleep over the blood on his hands.

And on this night, Darth Metus found respite in the arms of his apprentice. The chime of her voice and the cool of her touch were enough to keep the demons at bay - the same as they had since Ginnie's death. But this evening was different...This evening...Darth Metus found himself feeling more unrest than ever before. He felt as though something Dark, yet Familiar was tugging upon him. He thought it was simply his mind playing tricks on him...or maybe the deceased was haunting him as she did on Dragonflower.

But as the Sith eventually lulled into the black, a voice boomed across the room. Get up son...it's time to talk.

He "sat" up immediately...but found that he felt lighter than ever before. His first reaction was to look down - to see if his sudden movement had disturbed his beloved Apprentice...but to his surprise, he saw Him. With pale arms wrapped about his person, Darth Metus appeared to be sleeping sound. But he was also sitting upright on the bed. He...

It felt as though a star was burning before him.

The presence of [member="Petra Cavataio"] was one that he had not felt in many years. Not since she had taken him as her adoptive Son. Not since he had retreated from his enemies within Her fortress on Dathomir and trained under her supervision. So much had happened...but that presence and power remained the same. Darth Metus fully "arose" from his Apprentice's bed and "stepped" onto the floor. And, if not for witnessing his Mother before him, he might had realized that his bare feet felt nothing upon stepping forward.

But rather, he lowered himself to one knee.

He lowered his head, in respect and reverence.

"Yes. Mother. What is your wish?"

 

[Petra Cavataio]

A smile grew as Metus became aware and approached her. The room came into focus for Petra same time she heard him speak. The accepting of the visit was what made it easier to project the room he was sleeping in from memory. She wanted to use the bed. Walking around him to sit on the edge of the bed, she got a chance to observe the couple. No remark or hint of carrying was shared about the scene. It was all kept inwards for the moment.

Her hand patted the bed for him to join while she spoke, “Can relax, sweetie… this more of a social visit compare to anything else. I am waking up on Dathomir… such an act has never been easy on the old body and mind.”

Petra paused to gather herself. In the real, she was screaming with every memory flooded inwards and every nerve being lit on fire. It was something she did want to show. Then continued with her words while looking over Metus, “Are you happy?” It could have been taken as an odd question from nowhere, but Petra never did anything normal truly.



[member="Darth Metus"]

 

[Malok]

Their relationship had always been something along these lines. Darth Metus always regarded the Goddess with reverence. With respect. With awe. And she, in return, afforded the Sith what he had lacked for the whole of his youth. She treated him not as a political object, but always with some degree of care. This evening was no different - for as Darth Metus lowered himself to one knee, [member="Petra Cavataio"] seated herself beside the slumbering [member="Srina Talon"].

But of course, in this out of body experience, the Echani would have no clue. Her arms were yet tucked about her Master. Her expression spoke of peaceful slumber.

"Very well mother." came his response. And like a "good son", Darth Metus promptly joined the Goddess on the side of his bed. He...He had no inkling of the process of her Awakening. Had no clue what agony she was going through at this very moment. He even, in his naivety, thought that it was like taking groggy, first steps after a long nap.

But those thoughts were never voiced, for the woman posed a simple - yet loaded - question. Are you happy?

For a moment, quiet ruled the Sith. Was he happy? Did he have what he wanted in life? For the most part...Though recent history had stricken his heart a vicious blow, he wanted for nothing. Though rest was often robbed from him, his Confederacy thrived. But...

He cast a glance to the slumbering woman. "I am content. I am not happy, Mother." he admitted. "There is so much that I desire that I...I just cannot seem to have. What I want is so close, yet so far away - like water slipping through my hands."

He looked away from Srina and returned his attention to his Mother.

"What about you? How have you fared all this time?"

[member="Petra Cavataio"]

 

[Petra Cavataio]

While Metus glanced back and spoke, Petra looked down at her left hand. It had the rot and decay that her actual body had going on back on Dathomir. Bringing it up in the air, she looked it over to see if the effects were working from the awakening. Bones showing through the parts of missing flesh. There was healing happening, slow growth but her main body on Dathomir was worse than her spirit there with Metus.

Resting her head on Metus’s shoulder, still looking at her hand. “I could have fared better, sweet child.” Warmly starting to say and paused a moment as her thumb healed and became normal. “Which puts me into a similar boat. I allowed myself to slip into a place that I never been in and nearly destroyed me. Leave it up to me to be the one that ends my life…” Chuckling softly after her words. “All these years and the downfall almost came because of regret.” There was more to say about her actions in the past; however, she was dealing with it in another section of her mind. The one that was screaming to now end in pain from all the sins.

Clearing her throat a little, adding in, “Never regret, sweetie… fight to the end and never see failures as such. They are all moments to study, understand and grow from. One that doesn’t grow will have it all slip out of their hands, and I know you are better than that.”

[member="Darth Metus"]

 

[Malok]

When Metus returned his attention to his mother, he found her head resting on her shoulder. Her gaze was not on him, nor the slumbering object of his desire, but upon her own hand. At first, the Sith lofted a brow...but noticed straightway the sordid state of her flesh. Concern immediately made his stomach turn over at the sight. But...[member="Petra Cavataio"] did not seem concerned in the slightest. Or rather, she did not let on that there was an issue at all. Instead, she did what mothers did best: imparted wisdom to her son.

"Looks like we both flew too close to the sun, hmm?" he began.

He didn't comment on her words on growth, but instead chewed them over for a moment. Had he grown? A light chuckle escaped him at the thought. It wasn't something that crossed his mind - ever - but...he had. For one, he had left the shackles of the past behind. But more importantly, he was grounded. His ambitions were not for himself exclusively. His wasn't willing to sacrifice everyone or everything for power. There were exceptions. Few. Finite. Exceptions.

[member="Srina Talon"]. [member="Hadashah Vi'dreya"]. [member="Amaya Cardei"]. His heart and his children. He had a reason to keep from falling too far.

"I've learned to walk the edge of the abyss and not fall in again. I have reasons to do better." he began. "And I've learned that Mandalore is not home, nor was it ever. My home is Dathomir. My family does not has Beskar flowing through its veins, but rather Magick."

He paused, as a moment of sheer curiosity directed his next question.

"Mother, if you don't mind my asking...what happened to you? Can I...help in any way?"

 

[Petra Cavataio]

A soft chuckle came from Petra when she heard Isley speak about flying close to the sun. She pretty much made sure she walked on the sun over flying. If it was not a large extreme goal at hand, it could be boring overall. Minor jobs in the goals could be boring; however, overall picture needed to be exciting. It was how Petra did everything.

It was pleasing to hear Isley say her home was his. Add in part about magic in the blood of his family made the old witch so happy. It just reconfirms that adding him to the family was the right thing to do. Then she heard the question that followed the sweet music of his learning and growth. How much did she really want to say, and same time how to address it all. Petra took a moment.

Then Petra said with a tone to try and ease things, “This is the natural state of being for me… Sweet child, I am so old that I have forgotten my own age, and to achieve that, a spell I first used to extend my life never was about appearances. It was more about time never being able to kill my husband and me. Trust me, I look perfect now compared to the thing that’s going wake up in moments. Imagine a person alive so long that they are walking corpse as your body never dies but continues to age.”

A pause was given, she knew where her body was that it was not alone. “I feel slightly bad for those that are near my body. They are going to meet death in the rotting flesh.”

[member="Darth Metus"]

 

[Malok]

The mental image gave the Sith pause.

At first, he imagined a walking nightmare...but then recalled the sole instant he looked in a reflective surface. Following his demise...following his refusal to stay among the damned, Darth Metus clawed his way back into the world of the living. He was caught in a perpetual state of Undeath: forced to live out the moment of his death. His skin was flayed and charred. Embers roasted his bones. His tongue always boiled.

It seemed Magick and a refusal to die were Cavataio traits.

The Sith reached out and placed his hand upon his mother's knee. It was...seldom that he ever truly asked anything of the Goddess. For the totality of their relationship, he had only asked for refuge within the Clan Fortress: a request that was, admittedly pointless. As her son, of course her roof was his shelter. But he still asked and she still, with a smile, embraced him. Yet now, he had a genuine request. Something finite to require.

"Can you...show me how to live forever?"

[member="Petra Cavataio"]

 

[Petra Cavataio]

That was a big pill for Petra to swallow. Normally, anyone that asked her for immortality would quickly be killed as her answer. Death was forever, and she would add ‘ta-da’ at the end. However, this was slightly different. The adopted son that did follow through on everything she wanted. A reward would not be out of character for Petra. The Cavataio that were alive now were rewarded a life of their desire and not held in service like they were centuries. Although she killed her kids, it was easier for her kids to be immortal as it was written, more exactly, burned into the elements of her genetic code. Then passed on to the children.

This made everything even more tricky. The spell was cast and active. Petra would have to figure an out of the box way to grant Isley the everlasting life. One might think just to recast the spell. Such an act now with present day spy networks, tech, and galaxy feeling smaller than normal would increase the chance of being interrupted by others.

Petra pat Isley’s hand that was on her knee. “You are so my kid from another woman… only a true Cavataio would ask like that. We will have to do that when I have awakened and we a month or so without interrupting us. There is a lot of ancient Sith and Dathomirian spells to add your blood into the spell.”

[member="Darth Metus"]

 

[Malok]

The answer, as was the case with everything remotely Magickal was Patience. For such a request, Darth Metus knew that there was no easy answer. No instant answer. Clawing his way back into life took more power than he ever thought possible - so evading an eternal demise? That would take even more. But...The Goddess answered in the positive. A month of time was quite a bit swifter than what he had imagined would be the wait. A month of dedication as opposed to the years it took to barely understand Unlife?

He would take it. Every time. "Very well, I am more than happy to wait. After all, I'll have all eternity right?" A light chuckle escaped him at the terrible joke. It took a real special soul to laugh at their own humor. "What is next for you, once your strength returns? Will you stay...with me? With my Confederacy? Or...do you have other plans?"

He was asking, in a vague sort...about Dathomir.

[member="Petra Cavataio"]

 

[Petra Cavataio]

Petra stood up slowly from Metus’ side. Taking a few steps away from the bed, her feet and legs reflected what state her hands were at too. The slow healing just crept around the exposed bones. Not looking back just yet, she added “Well I don’t want to invade your personal space, but yeah, I’ll be in staying in your Confederacy when I’m not dealing with Dathomirian matters. So, I’ll need a beautiful planet to settle on and have some of your siblings can live on like Lauda.”

Then slowly turning back to him, Petra had a little-wicked grin showing. Adding her next words with glee, “My other plans… Dathomir had its time among the stars. I am bored with it and hungry. Then it will be added among the rocks that ended its use for me.”

[member="Darth Metus"]

 

[Malok]

"A beautiful planet, huh."

As the Goddess rose from the bed, the Sith raised a hand to his chin. Absently, his fingers stroked through the curly mass of hair whilst his mind worked. He was going through the Viceroyalty roster by memory alone, attempting to recall off the cuff which planets had representation and which did not.

"Leritor." he began. "It's a literal vacation planet, as beautiful as they come. Your resume is beyond outstanding, so I can pull some strings and have the world eating out of your hand in no time."

What was concerning was her words regarding Dathomir. To any with Witch heritage, the planet was as precious as Mandalore was to his former people. To be done with it, so casually...No. It was never his place to question his mother. Instead, the Sith simply nodded. "Very well, I'll do my part to help transition everything you desire from Dathomir to your new home. Just say the word."

[member="Petra Cavataio"]

 

[Petra Cavataio]

This was good news. Nice timing, once Petra awakens, she would be so angry and violent for a few hours. A world already picked for her to begin her plans. If life could be this easy with everything else, maybe Petra would not be bored with a planet.

Happily replying to Metus, “Thank you for the offer of help, sweetie… I think I will handle it outside of your government. Just returning and causing such trouble would be waayyy to soon for me.” Laughing lightly, then she continued. “There is still Steghe Arx to handle some of it, and I will find other means like the old days when the family was in the crime business…”

There was more to say, but Petra realized that she was whole. Every inch did not show decay. She knew the body was going to leave her spot and walk again on Dathomir. There were little time and more needing to be done. Focusing, the witch held her connection for now.

“Sadly, I need to do one more thing… call it insurance on you. One never knows their end until it comes.” Declaring as she lifted her right hand up. Other words followed old pronunciations of Peacean and Sith. Both intertwined with each other. The spell brought her traditional purple ichor, but it had red flashes of lighting flowing through it. The ichor reached out and flowed at Metus’ chest. The spell was to mark him more like her own children were; however, their mark was their genetic coding and the song their blood sang to her.

“The mark of mine on your bring… even if there were two, I will be able to find it. If I need to pull you back to the land of living like I have done with my children already.” Adding to maybe ease Metus regarding her action. She was going to see how far she could take this spell with him. Perhaps she would get even more good news, and she could push for Optivus Res status with him. It would not be the first leader that was one and worked to control the whole galaxy.

[member=Darth Metus]

 

[Malok]

The conversation quickly shifted from pleasantries to something far...greater.

The Goddess initially remarked upon the family business - Steghe Arx - which had been left in the supervision of the Morte following her disappearance. Though the Sith certainly did his part to ensure that the business did not go under, he admittedly did not do anything in terms of innovation. He did not push new products, nor install his own vision into his mother’s brainchild. Partially out of reverence for the woman...but, partially out of being distracted by his own ambitions. For a heartbeat, he wondered if Petra brought the corporation up as a means of passive reprimand - but there was no malice to be found in her voice.

And when she raised her hand, there was no malice to be found in her actions.

Spirit Ichor seeped from her fingertips as Paecian lyrics reached his ears. His skin seethed as the ethereal substance made landfall. His ears rang as ancient Sith corrupted the syllables which fell from the woman’s lips. Trembling, an understanding worked its way into Darth Metus’ mind even before she explained her intention. He knew this sensation - of burning perpetually but knowing very little pain. He knew the feeling of his own demise...that he was forced to endure in every moment until a suitable body was secured for his essence. This was his eternity. This was the rope he could cling upon when the jaws of death threatened to pull him under the waves.

”Mother…” he breathed.

Darth Metus trusted the Goddess, with a blindness that mirrored the trust his own Apprentice had in him. Just like [member="Srina Talon"], he felt he could open his arms and fall back - knowing that [member="Petra Cavataio"] would always be there to catch him. She had been there in his lowest, and thus he did not raise his guard when she worked her spell upon him. Instead, when the emerald blaze ceased, he lowered his head in gratitude. ”I...I feel I am not worthy of your blessings, Mother. And yet you continue to give and give and give. Thank you.” His sulfuric gaze fell upon his own hands for a moment. His fingers closed into fists.

”With this...With this gift I can truly Rule.”

[member="Petra Cavataio"]