Private When You Tend a Rose, a Thistle Cannot Grow

[Scherezade deWinter]

Xenro​

The skies of Eve were colored beautiful reds and purples that evening. Scherezade drove her Unicorn Speeder as fast as it would go, diving straight out of the city center proper and out towards where the forests and lakes were. Though she had more or less lived in one of Golbah City's docks for mostof her existence and then moved almost immediately to Eve while it was still in its early stages of construction, Scherezade was hardly a city girl. Every beautiful vision and memory held in her mind was never in towns or cities or even ships; but in forests, in nature, in fields of wheat and grass, of flowers, and…

And she looked at the sky again, grinning. Soon enough, the fairy lights would come alight. Small insects that resided in the forests of Eve, who fed mostly on other insects, but when they did not receive enough light from their surroundings, they lit their own. The effect was magical, giving off the feeling that one stepped away from the city and into a book of fairytales instead. Ever since her sister's capture by the OPA, Scherezade often came here to just escape everything else. The time to release her sister would soon enough be coming; the harder battle was to remain calm and in control rather than go and start burning worlds.

Besides, she's sent the entrance of the forest as a meeting location to a certain guest of hers that ought to be arriving right around now. It had been nearly two years ago that Scherezade had conceived her Hutt Breeding Program plan, and there had been a man in the Ministry of Science that had helped her make it a reality. But shortly after that, he had vanished. Whether by his own will or not, she never knew; but for months, the baby Hutts had served her well as little suicide bombers, mind controlled by the Force. It broke every rule of ethics that had ever been created, and she had enjoyed every moment of it.

But at last, through old contacts and a few under the table payments, she had uncovered contact details, and sent an official invitation, including an explanation of what the Agents of Chaos were and why Xenro would fit in it so wonderfully. Her plan was to begin at the forests. For the cherry on top to be given later… There was a specific place in Eve that she believed he would firmly enjoy.

Xenro would be arriving at the dockyard in the ship he'd chosen to come on, and then a limo would carry him here, where Scherezade had brought an extra speeder in tow. Maybe she wasn't so bad about showing people why this place was so lovely after all.

 

[Xenro]

In his isolation, the Sith had grown accustomed to a more solitary mode of transit. When he arrived on Eve, he did so to very few warm welcomes. The token exception was the limousine driver, who averted his eyes from the shrouded face. His instructions were simple: do not look at Xenro, do not speak to him, and do not linger once he was delivered to the destination. The contact with Scherezade deWinter had been brief, but succinct in the terms under which he would agree to meet.

This was part of the arrangement.

His stint in the Southern Systems came to an abrupt end when the Viceroyalty became privy to some of his more... fascinating projects. Inhumane at best, the former Minister of Science was charged with several counts of violating the human rights charter, and asked to step down before they could bring him to trial.

Fortunately for the Confederacy, Xenro was glad to leave without incident. He never tarried long in one place or another, and his employers often only held contact with him on a fleeting basis. The few people who did know him understood his preferences. Work alone. Be precise. Sloppy work is not tolerated.

The perfectionist stepped forth from the vehicle, which promptly sped away. The distance to DeWinter from that point was negligible. He could see her the moment he arrived.

What interested the Sith was what he felt in this place. Fragility made manifest: a world made up of imported life, and both flora and fauna kept there to live by unnatural means. There was something twisted about this place, hidden behind a picturesque frame of worldly beauty.

"Miss DeWinter," he greeted in a rasping voice. The last they had met, she had seen the form of the fumbling Doctor, Kerk Voran. A mental slave to Xenro's whims, Voran quickly succumbed to a strange sickness the instant he had outlived his usefulness. The form she saw now was more carefully obfuscated, by both traditional means and ones more arcane.

"It is not often that my name floats about in conversation. You must have done considerable searching to make this meeting a reality."

He asked in part out of genuine interest, and partially to see if there were channels that needed to be interrupted. Some men preferred their secrecy, after all.

 

[Scherezade deWinter]

Xenro​

"Still just Scherezade," she said with a warm smile as she looked at the man she had once escaped from, clutching her emotions with pure terror. How angry she had been at him back then, how terrified. Him and the two others who had offered help in return for her unleashing at those who had hurt her so, who had damaged her in such ways that she still, after all this time, was not completely healed.

But in some situations, the passing of time gave a person new perspectives. No, never again would she turn to those three in the hopes of anything within her heart receiving help. But when it came to passions, to delights, to destruction – the potential for alignments was immense. And with someone who got her ideas, and found ways not only to make them reality, but also on occasion improve them, this was one person she most definitely wanted on her side.

"I was part of the Ministry of Secrets before I left," she said to his second statement, "I've got my network of access to information." And that of course was before mentioning that she'd managed to hack into several databases by knowing who to pay long before that happened. Scherezade was, at the bottom line, a very resourceful person. It was a shame it had taken her so long to realize it about herself.

Glowing eyes scanned Xenro's form. "Is this truly you or are we speaking through a proxy again?" she asked gently and motioned for him to walk with her. The lakes and forest of Eve were beautiful, and now that they had been standing there for a handful of moments, the fairy lights began to shine among the trees, lighting them in whites and yellow dots of illumination. It was a beautiful sight to behold, though she did not know where Xenro's tastes lay when it came to that. But before she showed him the Garden of Death, she wished to show him Eve herself, a place of technological marvel, scientific advancement, and perhaps… A place where he could be at home.

"The baby Hutts were a success," she filled the small silence, "As far as I know, no one's quite understood how they worked, and no defenses against them had ever been constructed." And yet with time, she had stopped using them. Well. Not her, but her sister, when she thought she was in her own body. But that was a long and complicated story. "But it is time to move to other things. Things that are bigger, and better."

 

[Xenro]

"Mmmmm..."

She reminded him once more of her preferred nomenclature, and he noted it but said nothing more on the matter. Manners and polite words were a wall he kept between himself and other creatures of the Galaxy. It was as much a kindness to them as a quirk all his own.

From the woman's words, it appeared that the Sith had not done quite the extensive clean-up he thought he had. Whenever he left a place, he did his level best not to leave a trail to follow, or at least as little of one as possible. deWinter, it seemed, was good at finding out things people did not want known. He watched her closely as she spoke, taking note of her tone, the words she choose, and the way she carried herself.

Then, she asked a most relevant question. His black lips lifted slightly in amusement. "You are an observant one, aren't you?" he asked. Few people recognized that the forms Xenro utilized for interaction varied, but were never actually his own. Fewer met him more than once.

"No, I'm afraid this isn't my true body, but I haven't worn that in a very long time."

He took a moment to look all around and the world she'd called him to. "World," yet it was a space station. An interesting notion. It was as though she had birthed a planet all her own, through the marvels of science.

She spoke of the Hutts, her own pet project made manifest through the cloning vats of the Confederacy. Xenro researched the genome for her, all so she could have her own cadre of suicide bombers. Truth to tell, it had been a simple act.

Now, Scherezade sought more.

"I suppose everything depends," he began, "on what things you seek?"

Scherezade deWinter

 

[Scherezade deWinter]

Xenro​

Was she observant? Scherezade smiled in reply, but gave no words. Certain things, one couldn't get past by her, because she would know. She would always know. And this was a blessing as much as a curse, for the abilities that had come with her being a Blood Hound were not ones that she could ignore. Whether she wanted to or not, the blood in all beings that had it spoke to her, and gave her more information than she often knew what to do with. Someday, she hoped, she would learn how to block her senses to it at least somewhat, so that she could maintain more control over those abilities.

Not his true body. There was something about the scent that he shared with his previous one, but she only knew it once it was mentioned. Were she to stumble across another body of his and scent it, she probably would not be able to tell that it was him. That, at least, was her theory. But she hoped that the testing of it would happen in more controlled circumstances and not because they'd suddenly find themselves at opposite ends on a battle field.

Did he even do battle? To that, she had no answer yet.

"As before," she said, her voice dipping just a touch lower, "I see to destroy."

Opening the door to the limo, Scherezade waited for him to get before she joined. The door was unlocked; an attachment to the safety of where they were. Either that, or the pure knowledge that no one would dare attack them as they made their way towards the Garden of Death. In truth, Scherezade had considered taking Xenro to the Tower, but a feeling that licked her insides let her know that perhaps, that would not be the way to win the man of darkness over.

"You know how you can turn on layers on your holomap?" she asked as they began to drive, the scenery passing by them. Lakes, forests, large fields, slowly giving way to the beginning of civilization as they headed towards the very center of the main disc and through that, to the city itself. "Have you ever looked at the galaxy's map with the territorial layer on? See how much of the galaxy is held by the Sith Empire, the Confederacy, the Silvers, and a few more?

I have. Many times. And I've seen their territories choke the galaxy out. I have seen a galaxy full of those who would preach for freedom, enslave it through false manipulation and lies. And so, I wish to undo them. I wish to break them all down into rubble. Let the galaxy think it is being freed while we hurt those who hold it by the balls and bring forth a dawn in which every planet belongs to none but itself, and where the big leaders are left with nothing but the clothes on their backs."

 

[Xenro]

As they moved, Xenro listened. deWinter had a way of waxing poetic, perhaps, but she got her point across. A deep seated hatred for those who lorded over others, a distaste for the politicking in the Galaxy... all things that Xenro could use, if he found his niche interest in them. In truth, her talk of freedom fighting did slake one of his many thirsts.

It meant war, and that meant large scale death. Loss at a factor unimaginable, if Scherezade were allowed her way. While the idealism was often toted as pretty and freedom was considered the most noble of aspirations, the Sith Lord held no delusions of his own to that end.

The more that were culled, the closer they came to Galactic equilibrium.

"...and those who would resist you, who believe your methods extreme?" he asked. The part of the devil's advocate often revealed more about a person's intentions than they let on. Was deWinter as interested in control as all the others, or was she just as chaotic as she appeared at face value? Was she the sort of weapon he could utilize to whittle away at the bloated populace?

Perhaps.

Xenro merely needed to indulge her curiosity about him in order to indulge his own about her. "The Empire," he referred to the Sith juggernaut without the given nomenclature, curiously, "is little more than a few mongrels playing at their ideal version of power, and their grip will wane with time," he smiled a bit, "but they have their uses in the moment."

He lifted a hand to his chin, but when it came into view, it was flayed down and devoid of flesh, of sinew. Xenro tapped his flesh idly. "But when their gods fall down, what are the people left with?" he asked.

What kind of creature was Scherezade deWinter at her core?

 

[Scherezade deWinter]

Xenro​

The vehicle moved smoothly over air as it made its way from the forests of Eve towards the city center. Outside the windows, the horizon rolled by, offering a few of darkening skies painted in all the blues and purples that the human eye could see, large lakes in the distance, and more trees of forests on one side while the city began to slow on the other side, first in small and private buildings, and then bit by bit, taller and taller ones, until the Tower itself, the tallest building of Eve, showed, marking the precise center point of the disc that had been built for this purpose.

Brought back into the now by Xenro's question, Scherezade grinned. Scherezade was a woman of a thousand different kinds of smiles, and each smile created itself for another person, for another situation. While many of them shared similarities, each was unique, like a different spec of snow, and the one that Xenro received now was accompanied by a flash in her eyes. The question had sparked the hunger in her, the terrible need for blood shed.

There had been more than one reason that she'd declined the invitation to join the Silvers. Not only in recent times, but two years ago as well. While it was true that she held friends and friendships among the Jedi, she knew she would fit there even less than she had in the Confederacy. Her methods were too brutal, too blood thirsty, and she became unhappy without the opportunity to put the pointy end in someone else. Her very birth had decreed that she would exist to make rivers run with blood, and while she had attempted to deny many aspects of herself in the past, this was one which she never could or even think to.

"Let them resist if they feel the need," she half purred as he brought her commdevice out and clicked a button. It was weeks since their visit to Zosha, a planet that had not wanted the Agents of Chaos' help at all. They had enjoyed and prospered under the rule of another, and wished for it to continue, especially since before that, their situation had been a dire one indeed, where children went to bed too hungry, where credits were not enough to cover even the most basic of utilities.

The holo images that moved were almost as if out of a movie. Screams of terror and panic could be heard as entire streets filled with groups of natives that were just trying to run away while the hordes of the Wild Hunt descended on them from one side, while a hospital in another town broke down and shattered, burying its dead with it. In another street, people found themselves suddenly dead due to bloodloss, their blood quite literally forming rivers that ran downwards. "They do not get a choice," she laughed as the happy memories of that day flooded her, "Oh, we tried to be nice about it. They tried to nope us, so we showed them how serious we were. Zosha is now a liberated planet, almost entirely void of life. A few small tribes remain scattered, but independent. When we have the time we'll go after the kingdom that had tried to hold it and undo its existence as well."

For the Empire, she just shrugged. The words he gave to describe them made no difference, did not set them apart from any of the other empires in the galaxy, whether they claimed to be one or not. Scherezade had developed a healthy and deep disdain from all those territory grubbing organizations and governments, and she didn't keep it a secret. Where one could fall, so could all the rest. The only reason she had to be careful, was the knowledge that if the cards were played wrong, it would bring the ire and wrath of too many down on them at once, and that would not do. So they would build, and create, and destroy, brick by brick, layer by layer, carefully planned, and not bursting out until they were well and truly prepared to withstand the assaults that others would soon enough be throwing at them.

"When their gods fall down," she answered, "They will be left with the very worst of what the galaxy has to offer. They will be left with themselves."

And that, to many, was more terrifying than any Empire ever could be.

Let Chaos Reign.

 

[Xenro]

Xenro could only half smile in response. If he were a man with more than fleeting interests in others, the sentiment deWinter had offered might have enamored him to her. As he was, Xenro had no affections or lasting ties with other human beings. He did not, however, turn down an opportunity to further his own agendas.

The path of the Sith was a solitary one, and it brought with it different ideologies, and different understandings for each person. To Xenro, who had grown accustomed to the weakness of modern Sith and their proposed orders and perception of power, the path of the Sith was one of purity.

A Galaxy devoid of weakness.

Devoid of pretenders, proponents of the Code of the Sith who believed in controlling others and hoarding personal power and wealth, Jedi who sought to preserve weakness, politicians...

The Living.

Those with life were resourceful, ever changing, adapting, growing, expanding, manipulating, and ultimately stagnating. The chaos and Darkness ultimately hated hedonism and permanence. That was where Sith went wrong. It was where all things, ultimately, went wrong.

His green eyes flicked back to Scherezade as she showed him her work at Zosha. Liberated was a beautiful word for it. Her idea of freedom was almost perfect.

Her place in it, perhaps, deluded. But she could be directed. She could be shown the proper order of things.

Scherezade deWinter had come closer to true understanding than many humans in a very long time.

Xenro was not about to waste that opportunity.

"And then," he spoke evenly, "they will act accordingly."

 

[Scherezade deWinter]

Xenro​

The greenery around them had rolled away in this time. Everything was now buildings, shiny and new, sleek and perfect. The streets of Eve were wide, allowing for the passing of vehicles with ease, while still leaving more than plenty of room for pedestrians who preferred to, or had to walk. It was the privilege of being able to plan the entire city prior to the first brick being set in place, a means to know exactly how o appeal and answer to all the needs of a population, especially one that wanted a better life. There had been no need to tear homes down or pull families away from generations long of inhabiting a space just to improve it and then sell it to the highest bidder, for the city was so new that it had just been constructed to match all the needs in advance.

The one location that did not go hand in hand with that, was the Slums. Indeed, the Slums of Eve were not a friendly place, even if you were a gang member yourself. They had grown organically as the city evolved, without any sort of approval from Discordia who indeed had tried to bring it down on more than one occasion. Yet when she was nearly successful, the Firsts realized that removing the Slums gave them a whole slew of new problems, mostly in the form of its people moving underground and into the tunnels to create the People of Darkness. And that, was a much bigger headache than just having the Slums. So instead, the Slums were permitted to exist, within a defined gated area that was still large enough for the time being, but would probably be chokingly overcrowded before the next generation reached its end.

"And what is act accordingly?" she asked him as she switched her device off, the images of those running and screaming, of blood in the streets, and of the dead, shutting down, almost as though they had never even existed in the first place. "Too long the galaxy has suffered from overly orderly leaders who would try to neatly arrange it. But when you try to set order that way, you are bound to lose and fail, sooner or later."

How many had tried it? All of them. And yet while empires tried to take more territory and make it work in ways they saw fit, they always abandoned other ones, ones that were under their power as well. She had gone to Eshan to liberate it from Mandalorian clutches while the Confederacy let planets it ruled on its own fall into worse states of despair. A levelling of five blocks worth of street was hardly any worse than what some of their own planets endured under their own reign. But the hypocrisy of it was hardly anything new or unique, as the same could be said for the Outer Planet Alliance, for the Sith Empire, even for the Silvers who held no actual territory but kept adding planets they claimed to protect into what they defined as Silver territory, they all suffered from the very same disease.

And sometimes, when a disease became this widespread, the only way to shut it down, the best way to shut it down, was to kill all those who carried it. Down to the very last one.

"The very idea of it, the very essence," Scherezade said, "Is that there will be no accordingly left. With a lack of interplanetary rule, the sense of self of every planet, the sense of self of every person, will be open, raw, and under the least amount of direct control possible. Without order in the faux-balance, we shall see what people are truly made of. What lurks beneath their skins. Why they get to live while others die. It will not be a pretty sight, not in the slightest. It was will be chaos, it will be messy, and the price of life, the worth of a person, will significantly drop. And that is why, it will be perfect. However long it takes."

 

[Xenro]

Contrary to Scherezade, Xenro enjoyed the futility of those who sought to impose their versions of Order on the Galaxy. Because of them people like Scherezade were created. Rebels, insurgents, terrorists- people who wanted nothing more than to watch the Galaxy burn. These were the byproducts of good intentions, and because of them, Xenro got exactly what he wanted.

One could not exist without the other. Ultimately, one had to fall for the other to rise, and inevitably, another would rise to assure the one that came before it fell. Chaos was pure, unmitigated, and had its way like that.

Even her Agents of Chaos would have their judgment day.

Not before Xenro could enjoy their work, however. "You make an interesting point," Xenro noted in that quiet, almost hissing voice that was his trademark. "I will enjoy watching you work with that passion guiding you, I think."

There was no reason for him to take to semantics with this woman. She had a view, and a method, and she would adhere to it. Even if the path inevitably damned her, she intended to ride it to the end. Xenro found that most...

...interesting.

Because Xenro was a creature who wanted to peel away the flesh of humanity and watch what lay beneath run rampant. He wanted to see them thrive or fester, because both inevitably came to the same end. Life became death. It was an endless cycle.

Their means were different, but the end was the same.

"I do believe there may be some merit to this cause," he stated at last.

Scherezade deWinter

 

[Scherezade deWinter]

Xenro​

Scherezade practically beamed as Xenro said that he believed there was some merit to the cause. Not everyone did the Scherezade thing, where a good idea made them bouncy and excited, but that was fine. She would take some merit by someone who had helped shape her in more ways than one would imagine, though it was mostly likely nowhere on his notice or priority list.

Peering out through the window, she could see that they were almost there.

"This is Eve," she said, "Our capital city. Most of it has been built according to plan - from crust to interior."

It had happened before the Firsts left for the Unknown Regions. When Scherezade and her tiny group of friends arrived, Eve was in its very early days, the streets still more empty than not. Other additions to the Scintilla had not even been in the planning just yet. The speed at which things were rolling was terrifyingly fast - and they still had not slowed down.

The limo came to a stop and Scherezade jumped out, sending Xenro a grin.

They were standing in front of the Garden of Death now, the big sign announcing its entry, the text all decorative and gothic in appearance. Garden of Death. Such a dramatic name. It still made Scherezade giggle on occasion.

"And this…" she whispered excitedly, "is why I've invited you here."

True to its name, the Garden of Death was a large park, the front part of it constructed with tourists in mind. A few carts of food stood close to the entrance, offering foods that made the air smell like caramel and deep fried meat, almost succeeding in covering the smell that came from a distance further, the smell of poison and decay.

Into the park, the grass gradually turned darker, leading towards the parts where the growth was kept at a slight distance from the path to ensure nothing would jump from the shadows to slowly digest innocent visitors who just wanted to see what carnivorous plants who wanted to eat them looked like.

Motioning for Xenro to come with her, Scherezade led the two of them into the garden, following the cobblestone path that delved right into the heart of it… And to where the flora that killed people, awaited.