The edge of the sun had already touched the horizon, shrouding the city below in the vibrant red of its rise. To stay on top of the intergalactic market any relevant city on any relevant planet never truly slept, but a large chunk of the common people still aligned their live to the course of their respective light and heat spending star. Speeders and shuttles rose like the sun, connecting the countless citizens and business.
The being that had entered the Pleasure Tower was not one of them. Darth Abyss had nothing in common with the little insects that crawled through the dirt, he had long ago become more than just a man with a little bit of power. The last time he had been here the structure had still been under construction, only hinting at the oppressive presence it now unleashed upon the city below. It was clear that the tower's owner knew what she was doing, she had learned from the best after all.
Darth Mara, or rather Natalie LaForte as she called herself now, had done well for herself, without the insight and influence of her old master. There had been a time when Abyss would've been outraged by one of his own shedding the mantle of the sith, but the years and wars of the past had taught him that power could take on countess different forms, each with their own drawbacks and advantages.
Yet even without the calling of the sith, without the fear of death on both sides, they still were Master and apprentice. As such it was not only his interest but his duty to watch and guide her growth, push her to rise further, to always want more. Other than most sith the Mindeater did not train exclusively servants. Instead he understood his apprentices as projects that could give birth to future allies, and Natalie was living proof that he was right to do so.
Obviously the strange metal husk had not made his presence known. Firstly to not taint her operation by showing his wretched, twisted figure open to be seen by the public eye, and secondly because he enjoyed a bit of theatrics. The Prophet of Malachor simply wasn't the type to call the reception to ask for an appointment.
Instead the monstrosity formed from cursed metal already had waited inside the tower since nightfall, his shape and presence hidden below shadows and deception. Once business slowed down he slipped into the chief office, waiting for Natalie to return to work in the morning. While he still remained shrouded from sight he at least had placed a note on the office table, the two blood red words on it written in an elegant, yet clear handwriting:
Edited by Darth Abyss, 14 November 2017 - 05:16 AM.