A Reclusive Rendezvous

[Aszräl]

C H R I S T O P H S I S

The Corellian freighter drifted downwards with its dazed passenger toward the green-hued crystalline planet of Christophsis. The city-world, if you could call it that, was smack in the heart of the Techno Union; or at least that's what Rhoujen had left it as. The faction had gone through many iterations, but by the looks of the emblem as the ship hailed for docking coordinates, the work he had helped accomplish had reset. The Confederacy of Independent Systems was back. How troubling.

The true purpose of his visit here had nothing to do with the CIS. At least not that he was aware of. Why [member="Anesia Jy'Vun"] had requested to meet on this world of all places, however, was beyond him. Treiades was merely relieved to have a familiar face to come back to, as opposed to returning as a wayward wanderer with no true direction. Now he had somewhere to begin, and with early suspicions budding from this apparent reversion from the militaristic and progress-oriented state he had left things in.

Rhou grabbed his black travel cloak and draped it over his shoulders. He pondered for a moment and decided to don the hood as well. He was unsure if anyone would recognize him from the old days, but he'd rather be left alone. There was a particular lounge that the Dark Lady had prescribed to meet at, and it was a kilometer or two away from the spaceport. As he walked, he couldn't feel more than contempt at his surroundings. The previous symbols he had known; the luminously contrasting sheer emblem of the Techno Union that he left behind was replaced by the vibrant violet hues of the Confederacy.

As he neared the club, he heard a somewhat familiar voice over the holonet terminal nearby. He flashed a look over to it, and stared in amazement. Metus was back in charge? Treiades' eyes narrowed. Nothing added up, and he needed answers. He quickened his pace. Jy'vun had a lot of explaining to do on what happened over the past ten years, and he would have his answers.

 

[Anesia Jy'Vun]

• C H R I S T O P H S I S •​

​

Lime-light were her eyes and they cast into the depths of a clear tumbler pooled with amber liquid. The pale glow appeared near to the sight of a bacta tank in the dank depths of a laboratory upon Ruusan- they sparked of wild alchemy. Around the crystal, thin milky fingers with not quite onyx dipped nails balanced the contents adroitly. They were closer to a very deep gray and just past the length of practical to many; accentuating the business suit wrapped smartly about the generous curves of the Sith Master.

The glass came to the polished, mahogany bar top with a light but reverberating clang, announcing without a word, to refill.

He was within orbit. Anesia knew - felt it, the signature of [member="Treiades Rhoujen"] was an old one and attached to the very strings of the other. Salem Norongachi. The triumvirate. A near impregnable bond that often tested time and space... systems and loyalties. Theirs was the fire in the night, the smoke simper of heat, and the ash from which absolute redemption emerged from kindled tyranny.

Anesia sat back, releasing a button on a charcoal blazer that merely revealed more of a crisp white blouse beneath it. He would question this as she did. However, the game they played was fermented in patience. Neither of the three, while having differences, were never without the mind to learn more and like many things, immediate gratification did not appeal to them. It appealed to children with glass houses and pretty crowns.

Violet and gold accents washed about the lounge, with rustic tables and a long, circular bar that took up the better part of the establishment. That was were the lady of the abyss sat, one long leg perched over the other. Bright, viridian pools met Rhou's and she saw- and cared not of the freshly skin he'd slipped- but peered past his shell to that of him.

"Rhoujen."

 

[Aszräl]

The smoke and revelry within the baroque establishment caused Rhoujen a level of discomfort. It felt inappropriate to be celebrating at a time like this, though he knew they had nothing to do with his current state of ire. He made his way quickly through the throng and avoided eye contact as much as he could. When he finally breached the crowd and made it to the halls that led toward the back rooms, he'd somehow lost his cloak. His golden hair, cyan eyes, and chiseled frown were in plain view and for better or worse it made people get out of his way in these narrower corridors. Upon finding the private room, Treiades had a momentary flashback of a moment with a certain Miss Cognito and how she tried to drown him in the bosoms of a rainbow of skin tones. It would have brought a smile to his face were it not for the circumstances of this visit.

At a press of a button, the door chimed and slid open. There, perched as she ever was in her seat, was [member="Anesia Jy'Vun"]. The Dark Lady, as he called her, always had an ambience of mystique that made him uneasy. He knew his old mentor reveled in that danger, in that air of lethality, but it brought a certain nagging in the back of his mind. Were Sigma still around to interfere with his thoughts, that entity would love to get to know her better. Rhou for his part was glad he'd temporarily nullified that creature. On the greeting, the door slid shut behind him and the apparently-young man took a seat across from, and slightly to the side of, Anesia.

"I'm surprised you didn't call me Sigma," he commented, and continued "I imagine you know I have a lot of questions."

 

[Anesia Jy'Vun]

There was a slight simper, lips persuading into a light smirk. "You don't...feel like Sigma," she paused, snaking her thin fingers about the glass tumbler while amber liquid pooled until half-full, "right now." That being felt entirely different than the person before her, though they were one in the same. Sigma dwelled. Omega dwelled. Ferrius...plotted.

Anesia was different, to say in the least. While most often fought their demons, this creature allowed the slipping of skins to be a natural occurrence. And it was a seamless...transaction every time. Were it possible it was all just a charade? It could be...though when her eyes were upon you, it was hard to ignore the hunger in her gaze. It was hard not to call her monster. "Care for a drink? We have many things to discuss."

Just then, the woman ferried her own recently refilled drink to her lips and let the liquid empty down her throat in a rush of heat. "There are questions of my own I must ask." A gaze baring a striking resemblance to Salem, leveled at the younger appearing man- [member="Treiades Rhoujen"]. The dark coated her being, or made itself...notable in that moment and the creature wore it like the very flesh that wrapped her bones.

 

[Aszräl]

"I shouldn't have forgotten how perceptive you are," he half-mumbled half-commented, eyeing the glass perched just off to his right, "and I'll pass on the beverage... for now" it was tempting but presently felt inappropriate.

The atmosphere shifted and twisted. It was like something was testing the heart-strings of Sigma to tease out his presence, but the entity wasn't quite home at the moment. There were shards; fragments. The creature could not truly be slain, but he was just as incapacitated, and that suited Rhoujen just fine.

"I imagine you do," he replied as he leaned forward, laced his fingers together, and rested his chin across the bridge. His bright-eyed gazed narrowed in a brief flash as quick as the shadow that enveloped the woman. The corner of his mouth lengthened in the slightest of smirks as he focused his attention more on [member="Anesia Jy'Vun"].

"So who talks first?"

 

[Anesia Jy'Vun]

An alchemy-inspired gaze lingered as if urging the inappropriate. How dare she? But what could really be done...honestly? Anesia was exactly who she was; a creature of charisma and the D A R K. Where a bow and pretty paper normally wrapped such a thing, it was adaptation, power. Hunger. Passion. A passion that contrived the very mechanisms of the monster's mind.

A single digit slid around the rim of the glass, collecting the remaining liquid.

"Did you not accept him back?" The smile was still there where a snarl ought to be. But this was Ferrius. This was [member="Treiades Rhoujen"].

The violent...violet of her pools expanded tickling more of the emerald, just enough to be noticed. "Was that foundation set for naught?"