Private Away At The Ballet

[Drane T'keen]

Spoiler: Music IC - Interlude

The Coruscant Opera was alive tonight, thriving with all kinds of folk from all walks of life, though most were generally interested in the finer things in life to begin with. The arts. Theater. Music. Ballet. Dancing. Writing. Not just any kind, one might mind, and this night at the opera was one such reminder that certain performances were of such wonder because they were slower. They were appreciated for their escape, far away from the chaos of the galaxy. That was exactly why one man came today. His name was Drane.

He wasn’t afraid of action and adventure. He was a violent man. He liked to fight, to maim, to hurt others, to murder them. Mostly when it came to a challenge, in combat against a worthy opponent. He was a warrior. A Thyrsian. A Sith Knight. On the other hand, Drane wasn’t shy about tasting the quieter and richer pleasures of this universe. He came to this ballet, not to turn it upside down, but to be just another member of the crowd.

None would know that he was a Sith. Even other Force-sensitives would have to crack the mask of his signature. He wore no robes, no cloak with a hood, but he did sport a black gold suit of rich fabric and with black dress shoes.

At the moment, Drane sat alone in one of the higher seats reserved for him and his ticket. There was an empty seat beside him. A sleeping giant on the other side. That’s a Herglic, all right. Drane sighed, looking away from the Herglic’s face as he cradled a glass of champagne. It tasted as fine as one might expect in an establishment such as this. Amid the audience were various conversations, for the ballet had yet to begin.

Don Copoyo read the name of the play as Drane gazed at his gilded card. It displayed the details of what this ballet was all about, the cast, the time, the music. What did it say?

Tertius C. Nargath

 

[Tertius C. Nargath]

Generally, Tertius did like the finer things in life, be it a good selection of wine, the occassional parties held by fellow nobles or even a relaxing trip to the spa, there were in truth many options for someone who wasn't preoccupied with any sort of military operations, or who would be consumed by the stiff and unmovable dogmas that came with all those so-called force sensitives and their pointless lust for power. All he cared about was having a good life and to have that, he had to make his business thrive, that was all. He didn't care who he delt with, he didn't care how he accomplished making a profit, as after all, it was all a means to an end: to live life to the fullest and leave a healthy legacy for those who'd come after.

This was another of those moments in which he decided to take some time for himself and enjoy the steadily increasing profits the N&Z managed to rake in over the course of the past year. It wasn't too much trouble to get from the company's liaison offices in Coruscant's business district to the entertaintment district where the grand opera building was located. This place was a bit of everything; used for sports, opera, theatre and apparently that day it was a large Ballet recital.

"I don't think I've seen any ballet performance since my trip to Balmora...what a sham that was," Letting out a sigh, the Eriaduan Marquis found the seat that had been allocated to his purchase, looking around to see who else was placed within the premium spectator booth. Glacing about, a particular individual dressed in what could best be described as a somewhat gaudy suit with gold paisley and a dark black contrasting color. While the Marquis found it a bit tacky, he had to admit that the form of the suit was actually pretty good.

Raising his hand to one of the attendants the head of House Nargath, leaned in towards the attendant reaching to his seat. "I'd like a glass of Blossom Wine, preferably a vintage of twenty or older...but don't bring me that 857 garbage if you can."

"So...Don Copoyo..." Though he was looking in front of him, his gaze transfixed on the stage below, it was clear that Tertius was in fact striking up a bit of a conversation with anyone listening and having noticed how the man next to him, wearing the gold and black suit seemed to stare at his ticket, the Marquis let out a soft chuckle. "You'd need to have perfect eyesight and a microscope to read those things... though as far as I know Don Copoyo would've been something lighthearted, almost childish in nature...though I reckon with the right kind of music anything can get dramatic."

When the attendant returned and brought the Marquis his wine, the man swirled the liquid around within the glass, before raising it to his nose for a good whiff of the bouquet before finally taking a sip from it. "Ofcourse they didn't listen...this IS 857... it's like you need to go to the Sith empire to get yourself a decent glass of wine. Not a fan of their whole power and war ideology...but they do tend to have the better selection of luxury products...unlike those Jedis who'd prefer living on stale bread and blue milk..."

Drane T'keen

 

[Drane T'keen]

With the Herglic’s silence, and the unintelligible conversations of the audience unless the Sith decided to listen in with his senses, which he didn’t, he instead listened to the attendant who he would politely decline to by lifting his glass in hand. However, he also overheard the words of the man sitting beside him. Blossom Wine. Twenty or older. Now there’s a discriminating choice.

Unfortunately, this man sounded a rather bit pompous in voice by directing the attendant to explicitly not bring him garbage. Drane might be in a flashy suit in a galaxy filled with flashy outfits but he wasn’t one to be so demanding toward attendants. Even for a Sith, he wasn’t terribly arrogant. This champagne, whatever its vintage, would suffice for the night.

A chuckle came Drane’s way. It was returned with a chortle, whatever the difference in expression. The amusement over the text was a shared sentiment between both men regardless of their outfits or mannerisms. “Indeed. If only I had four eyes instead of two to see with, am I right?” Oh, if only his contemporary knew of his other two eyes. Then again, who was to say the man sitting beside Drane was not also Force-sensitive, if not a Sith?

The universe did have a way with coincidence as much as fate. Just then, this other man proved his truth of elitism with his all too pretentious expression over vintage. In truth, Drane was one to appreciate a fine wine, could tell the difference in taste, but he wasn’t so blatantly picky with it. Furthermore, if this man was a Sith, he wasn’t so subtle with mentioning it. Then again, you didn’t need to be Force-sensitive to express opinions on politics. Truly, Drane did not yet know what to make of his contemporary, as much as the ballet soon to begin.

“I am not so sure,” Drane said, looking down at his champagne. It was not the type of wine to swirl like his contemporary’s might be. That ought to cause the liquid to foam. Though, the bubbles released aromas all on their own. So he lifted the rim to his nose for a delicate sniff. “I have met a Jedi who gave me finer wine than a Sith did who only offered me water and crackers in comparison.”

A story for another time, maybe, much unlike tonight’s entertainment. “Don Copoyo…” Drane lifted his ticket as he read its synopsis. “Confused between dream and reality, Don Copoyo discovers an entity that may be a machine, only her beauty captures him, and he determines to discover whether his love is real and if his lover, Franzinea, can really feel.”

Tertius C. Nargath

 

[Tertius C. Nargath]

"I reckon that would've helped," Even though Tertius was not truly aware of the implications and intentions with the four eyes comment, the Head of House Nargath could only understand it as a practical joke, so he gave a response according to his own understandings. "To be fair, with my eyesight, you might need even more than four eyes."

When it was pointed out by the stranger that in the Jedi's defense, he had also seen sith giving a man less than water and bread and jedi actually giving someone's entire desired fill, the Businessman seemed to be slightly confused by this revelation, though perhaps considering he didn't even think he'd have met every jedi or sith possible, he didn't dispute the stranger's claim, simply shrugging his shoulders as he took a sip from his glass of Blossom wine. "I reckon there should always be excemptions to the rule."

Tapping his own ticket while his boothbuddy explained the synopsis as given in the form of the somewhat blurry and incomprehensible looking text, the Marquis let out a sigh before suddenly gasping as he took a deep breath. "AH...so that's what these darn squiggles say...you are most graceous to explain this all to me, you have my thanks good sir."

Waving around his own ticket before putting it into his vest, Tertius wriggled a bit as he tried to get comfortable within the seat he was given, noticing that the filling of the seat was somewhat lumpy and degraded. Somewhat annoyed, he realized there was no other option than to settle for the damn thing and accept reality as it was, but that didn't mean he did it willingly and without letting out at least a bit of a grumble. "I swear, sometimes I do wonder whether or not the people running this place happen to remember that the income flow must also be reinvested into the actual building... there's cracks in the structure over there, flaking of the paint on those railings and even the goldleaf has lost its shine and luster...not to mention this darned seat being lumpy, with degraded filling. My apologies if my grumbling may come over as rude, but considering the price of these tickets and seats...I would've hoped to be in all comfort possible and not plagued by the incompetence of those hosting this ballet."

Drane T'keen

 

[Drane T'keen]

Spoiler: Music IC - Interlude

At his boothbuddy’s thanks, Drane simply nodded in acknowledgment. Darn squiggles. He contained his chuckle. His contemporary had a way of speaking that was as amusing as pleasing with its refinement. Conversely, the Thyrsian did not slip his ticket away, reading each word clearly, turning it over, gazing at the back of the brochure. Ticket. Brochure. Whatever.

Curious. He thought as he listened to his seating companion. Was this image reflective of this evening’s performance or to the Coruscant Opera overall? It was a different aesthetic if the latter. If the former, Drane could only wonder. Don Copoyo… The synopsis over confusion between dream and reality did lend credence to the artistic depiction and the theory.

“Grumbling?” Drane cocked a brow, half-listening to his contemporary in the end. He backtracked, as a Force-sensitive might, recalling mentions of structural instability, decaying paint, unlively imagery, lumpy seats. Sure, he wasn’t as picky, despite his refined tastes in comparison to his utter violence and bloodlust which could lead to messy scenes, yet Drane suddenly appreciated this man’s elitist ways. It did fit the occasion.

“No apology is necessary.” Drane didn’t grin but his tone of speech did. “It is indeed an expensive purchase and, given this is the Coruscant Opera, you expect to pay for what you get.” Granted, he didn’t notice the cracks, literal or figurative, until mentioned, but there they were anyhow. “Perhaps we should have ventured to the Galaxies Opera House instead.” Maybe he was only half-joking.

“Tell me,” Drane inquired of his companion if he would be so obliged. “What was the last show you caught? Ballet. Opera. Symphony. Whatever. You do strike me as a discriminating gentleman of the theater.” There was no sarcasm in his tone. Though, amid this next piece of music, the interlude suggested time for conversation would soon be at an end, and the ballet would soon begin. Hopefully it would be worth the ticket of admission.

Tertius C. Nargath

 

[Tertius C. Nargath]

"Or any place that didn't skimp on the maintainance of their facilities," From the perspective of a businessman, a noble magnate who had taken over a once proud and mighty company in a state of desolation, stagnation and on the brink of ruination, having heavily invested his family's wealth into the company's revival and subsequential revitalization, Tertius knew what it meant if one who ran a business or any sort of operation was skimping on the very foundations. It was somewhat infuriating to the Marquis, who being brought up on Eriadu and who despite his aristocratic background and lavish lifestyle still had that military soul within him like all Eriaduans who kept themselves to the solid foundations of their culture. "I can say it, I loved my father and my grandfather...but like the owner of this place, they were weak and prone to dismissing the very source of their power and wealth, drowning themselves in unnecessary and unearned luxuries."

Letting out a sigh, the Marquis looked at the performance for a moment, finding himself a bit torn between intrigue and boredom, as if despite fitting in with the crowd, the whole thing somewhat disheartened and displeased the man. When he heard the man dressed in the black and gold attire ask him what his last cultural experience was, whether it be a symphony, a show or anything, the Head of House Nargath smiled somewhat, nothing bright or bashful, just a faint smile that seemed to convey just enough emotion to make it clear that whatever he did see last, was at the very least much more enjoyable than this current performance had been so far.

"I think the last performance I had the pleasure of watching was a in the local Wilhuff Tarkin Center of Cultural Excellence on Eriadu, a play of sorts which was accompanied musically by the Military Academy's orchestral ensemble...it was rather magnificent in my opinion, especially their rendition of The Zealot," The faint smile remained on the man's lips as he continued watching the performance below, taking another sip of his Blossom wine and still feeling the bliss of the lingering memory in the back of his mind. "I do love my home...strict, stern, orderly and yet, culturally refined."

Drane T'keen

 

[Drane T'keen]

Spoiler: Music IC

An interlude helped set the mood, get the audience into their seats, situated into silence, listen to the music as they waited for the performance to begin. Granted, not everyone did. Murmurs of unintelligible conversations filled the theater. Some sat, like Drane and this other man. Some continued to stand. Others slept like the Herglic. In the end, however, once the show finally got on the road, so to speak, and the curtains opened, and the lights dimmed, it was time for everyone to be quiet. Except for the Thyrsian and his companion.

Don Copoyo got underway. Drane kept his gaze on the stage, listened to the music, given there was silence amongst the three ballerinas onstage, but listened to the other and rather sophisticated man in his presence. Confused between dream and reality. He recited the line from the ticket. Don Copoyo discovers an entity. Clearly these three women in their sparkling outfits were meant to represent the elegance of a blissful sleep. In what way, exactly?

“Wilhuff Tarkin Center?” He repeated. “I don’t believe I’ve ever had the pleasure.” He lifted the rim of his glass to his lips, savored the moment, took a sip. “I tell you, though, a military orchestra is no joke.” He remembered his own. “The drum. The organ. The trumpet. The cello.” Granted, one culture’s similar performance was as different as another’s. It was definitely different than the piano fit for this ballet but such was the occasion.

“I do love my home too. Strict, stern, orderly…” Drane echoed, a smile creeping at the corner of his lips. “Though not so culturally refined.” That just isn’t the Thyrsus he knows. Not in the sense of the finer things in life like the theater and the wine to pair with. “Drane, by the way.” Often you met a stranger without ever learning their name but this felt like the occasion for it. “Your name, if I may?”

Tertius C. Nargath

 

[Tertius C. Nargath]

While the performance was continuing, the sweet and dramatic notes, the heart-stirring play on the keys reverberating throughout the entire hall, the Marquis only barely could keep his attention on the performance, finding the talk he had with the stranger much more amusing and entertaining than the very thing he had paid quite the amount of credits for.

"I may have lacked the physical qualities to become anything of a military man myself, but I do find comfort in the teachings of the Eriaduan military academy," A wry smile appeared on Tertius' face, his gray-blue eyes glimmering with a certain reminiscence, a nostalgia despite the fact he had only come to Coruscant about a fortnight ago and would probably be back on Eriadu within a week. "You would find Eriadu to be... reminiscent of what the olden days of the Galactic Empire had to offer to those who held themselves in line with the teachings of decorum and strength of character valued by our most important historical figure: Wilhuff Tarkin. Though...it's not like there's no rowdy parts or decadent parts to that place either, it is only natural such things exist in a society."

Murmering some words in what seemed to be some deep Eriaduan offshoot of the common tongue, it was clear the Marquis showed some continued displeasure with his seating, lifting himself a bit from his seat with both arms, just to try and find a more comfortable way to sit upon the lumpy cushion.

"Well met, Drane..." The Head of House Nargath had to refrain from asking wether or not this man had a name of any house or family, but in careful consideration, Tertius decided that perhaps it was simply a matter of reasoning. They had but just met, opening up oneself so easily would be an open invite to intrigue and betrayal...never a logical choice and certainly not what the Marquis would do either. "You may call me Tertius. "

Drane T'keen

 

[Drane T'keen]

Spoiler: Music IC

Tertius. The name reflected in Drane’s head in a way that it might not in another occasion. Maybe that was due to the circumstances of this performance; of which, whatever his companion thought, he was enthralled within. Never mind the decaying walls of their environment as his contemporary saw fit to place judgment of (and would not be judged for this). Ultimately, however, Drane T’keen was one to engage within the ballet given to him; to get lost in the dream as much as the reality.

“Well met, Tertius.” Whatever his seating buddy’s eyes may convey, Drane never took his gaze away from the stage; yet his words were delivered no less genuinely. This was no mere man in his presence. Tertius was an observer and a judger as much as yet another member of the audience. He spoke with pomposity as much as nobility, however, as if he hailed from some noble family who expected better, never mind his outfit.

Onstage, the ballerinas had since given way to the bread and butter of this performance. The music had shifted. The lights had dimmed, fading into darkness, to light again with a man in black cloak and high collar, outfit trimmed in gold. He sat in a chair beneath a violin as tranquil as miserable, depending on perspective, and such was art, light or dark.

“The Galactic Empire was strong,” Drane stated the obvious as he watched Don Copoyo gaze upon the floor. “Virtues were upheld; decorum as much as decoration.” In that moment, the arrogance of Drane made him feel like a noble all over again. “Though we may disagree on Wilhuff Tarkin.” He swiveled his champagne in place of shrugging or shifting in his seat. “Perhaps simply because I am not as versed on him but, that said, you mention decadence amid embellishment; natural to society as much as this galaxy. Indeed.”

Drane may be speaking out of his anus but he suddenly wondered as Don Copoyo turned his gaze to the ceiling, leaning forward the next moment, cradling his head in his hands, as if struggling with thinking. “Perhaps that is balance, as with light and darkness.” He sipped. “Jedi and Sith, to be so transparent if ambiguous and unstylish.” He grinned. "Mayhap that is the brilliance of this performance."

Tertius C. Nargath

 

[Tertius C. Nargath]

For once, as the lights dimmed and the performance seemed to be focusing on a single individual dressed in sober, yet elegant attire and seated upon an opulent looking chair, the marquis felt somewhat compelled to actually pay attention to the show. However, his attention was still split between the performance and the man next to him responding to his earlier musings.

"You may have misheard me though, Wilhuff Tarkin is seen as one of the greats on Eriadu, not necessarily the galaxy itself," Tertius snorted a bit, the idea of calling a man who despite a brilliant background in the military would actually end up being partially responsible for the ancient empire's lack of response timing and efficiency through his blatant disregard of naval structure with his aptly named Tarkin Doctrine was somewhat idiotic. Still, this once great Tarkin had done much good for the Eriadu system, where the industries saw great strides in technology and improved logistics through military contracts and contacts. "Decadence can be a good thing as long as it is worth it... decadence without purpose is a waste of time and a waste of potential. Why would I for instance pay for golden cutlery if my knife wouldn't cut my meat and my fork would bend before I'd be able to prick it into my meat. Useless and wasteful decadence is abhorrent, but decadence WITH purpose is one of life's great pleasures."

The Marquis smiled faintly once again, thinking about what Drane had said about the balance being key to the performance, balance being the key to it all. "It is somewhat funny would you not agree? Both sides of a single coin, each claiming balance will be achieved when the opposite side is wiped out...but tell me, would a defaced coin still hold its value? Would a halved coin be considered balance...no, I generally usually wouldn't find myself on the same line as my great uncle who was rather obsessed with the Force and all these things from what I heard... but he did make a statement that I found rather intriguing: - Balance only exist when you either have everything or nothing -"

Drane T'keen

 

[Drane T'keen]

There wasn’t much happening onstage just yet as Drane watched the ballet. Don Copoyo appeared to be reflecting on things, sitting and sipping whiskey as the seconds passed by, simply listening to the music. Though a fan of theater, the Thyrsian was no expert on it, but he figured this was a moment of quiet reflection for the audience just as much, though two men were not so silent as they spoke above a whisper.

Drane listened to both sides intently; the events of below and of above in equal measure. Was that a coincidence? Or was there another message in there somewhere that reflected this very conversation between two members of the audience who met by chance? It was doubtful that it was fate anyway.

Two sides of the same coin. Tertius words’ were as interesting as contradicting but that was the intention given the nature of their discussion on balance. Theory in the end, maybe, but it made sense.

“Balance only exists when you have everything or nothing,” Drane repeated, more in curiosity than as a solid statement of conviction. “I guess it depends on context. Take the late Darth Sidious, for instance. His idea of balance in the galaxy was to have everything under his power, leaving so very many with nothing.”

He sipped his champagne in unison with the actor’s whiskey but didn’t finish speaking. “Same with the value of a defaced coin. The coin itself generally still has its monetary value in equal measure depending on the extent of damage. To a collector? That value may be reduced marginally or significantly. A halved coin? There is the problem. Two halves make a whole but not all that is broken can be mended and it depends on the object. Halve an orange sold whole at high price, for instance, create crème brûlée cheesecake out of their cups with the most expensive ingredients, and that rich collector has found his balance.”

Don Copoyo appeared to be rich with his lavish living room but did not seem to be very happy on that note. “Golden cutlery would stay in a display case, I imagine. Is that useless decadence? Perhaps it attracts the attention of an expensive guest looking to purchase the set so that the owner can be rid of it. Perhaps, then, what is everything to one man is nothing to the other man, and there is the balance.”

Tertius C. Nargath

 

[Tertius C. Nargath]

The marquis listened with a keen ear to Draan's response, finding it rather amusing as to how easily and eloquently this particular individual managed to counter his beliefs and statements with irrefutable logic that was correct in its own way as well. Taking another sip of his blossom wine and calling over one of the attendants by raising his hand, Tertius handed over his empty glass and nodded towards his current conversational partner. "I'll have a Corellian Brandy and offer this man whatever he wants on my expense."

Letting out a chuckle, Tertius looked at the ballet on the stage, letting out a sigh when he realized that in the end, the whole performance had failed to truly capture his attention. He had sadly come to the realization that once again he had wasted credits on something he generally didn't have too much interest in, though he did like other performances, this one simply didn't manage to reach his inner self all that much, which was overall a pity. The man with the gaudy suit though managed to entertain the Marquis enough to have made these costs irrelevant in the long run.

"I can't refute the words you speak and the logic you wield," With the attendant finally returning, the Marquis accepted his glass of corellian brandy and took a good swig, trembling a bit as the alcohol descended into his usophagus, giving him an all in all quite pleasant and fuzzy feeling. "Still...true balance as it were...is nothing but a dead sentence for people like me. Because if all is balanced, stagnation will occur and stagnation means another period like the whole antimilitary sentiment that had gripped the old republic for hundreds of years...it nearly killed off several large companies because of the lack of progress, the lack of credits going around and the eventual rise of the trade federation... balance is not preferable over dominance in my opinion...because as long as there is one to dominate, there is one to be opressed...and both sides will want to either keep or gain an advantage... which means: business will thrive."

Drane T'keen

 

[Drane T'keen]

Spoiler: Music IC

Sublime. Fate, maybe? That was silly. It was probably just a coincidence. Yet the universe did have a way of turning on its edges as far as Drane T’keen could see. Was theory idiocy? Ask any scientist and they would tell you for a certainty that the only true insanity was the lack of creativity.

Ask a mathematician whether they truly believed that the harmony they witnessed was only inside their own mind and they would call you insane. Ask a musician if the music they played offered any real emotion and their eyes would peel your way as if you had just asked them whether music even existed to begin with.

So, was he crazy to believe that the galaxy had ordained this moment? Decreed for Drane’s champagne to be finished with his drink at the same heartbeat as Tertius was finished with his wine? Maybe. That might really be just a coincidence never worth three paragraphs of explanation over it. Then again, he remembered where he was: at an opera with a ballet whose inherent machination was one of fate as much as coincidence.

Whatever I want at his expense. Drane reflected. Truly, he had never taken his gaze away from the stage until that moment. Such a simple gesture as both Drane and Tertius had emptied their glasses and the latter called for the waiter with his offer. “I’ll take the same, please,” he responded promptly. “Corellian Brandy.”

At this moment, on the stage, Don Copoyo had since gotten up. He had searched his furniture, admired his ornaments, display cases and vases, browsed his shelves of books; yet, in the end, he could not find that which he was seeking, and was as empty as the vase, as transparent as the glass in the case, and left wanting.

“I can’t say I disagree,” Drane offered honestly while he waited on his drink, eyes glued to the stage. “Though, more than one version has proven that both balance and dominance fail in the end.” The Don just then moved toward the door.

“The Republic. The Empire. One crushed the other. The other was crushed. The rug pulled out from under the other.” He moved his fingers as if to swivel wine, but he had not forgotten that no glass was in his grip. Perhaps it was simply the habit of someone in his…position.

“Business, on the other hand, always persists, just as you said. Take the Hutts, for instance. They thrive on the sidelines or in the thick of it. Yet they never waver from their position. They always benefit and profit not matter in which direction the wind shifts.”

Don Copoyo opened the door the same moment he clutched his throat and began to choke.

“Similar to a certain organization some would call a cult as much as religious. Yet it has persisted with and without the constraints of Darth Sidious. It has walked the skies far beyond the reaches of Skywalker.” Theatrical vocabulary, evidently, yet this was the theater.

“Business will thrive?” Drane chortled as if his companion had just told him some dumb joke. “The Sith Order shall thrive, sir.” His Corellian Brandy came the next moment. Shaken, not stirred. "That is a promise of the future."

Tertius C. Nargath

 

[Tertius C. Nargath]

As Drane T'keen ordered his drink, the attendant quickly left their booth and would only come back about ten minutes later with the drinks which had been ordered. In the meantime, the performance began to reach its climax, with Don Copoyo being confronted by his fears.

"Hmm?" The Marquis was intrigued when Drane started to be a bit more cryptical with his descriptions, once again mentioning that name: Darth Sidious. That man was revered and reviled in equal meassure all across the galaxy, Eriadu didn't hate the man's legacy, only the fact that their vision began to become bloated and blurred with their own desire for grandeur. Credius Nargath; Tertius' uncle was similar in that regard, desiring nothing more than to maintain power and do it in a style with as much grandeur as possible... a fate that ultimately made him run from Eriadu to spearhead the Zweihander project, though clearly that had failed as well. Though that man too was pressumed dead by the Nargath House, clearly there were some similarities.

"If the sith thrive, it will not be because of some supernatural belief," The marquis laughed, yet raised his glass nonetheless. "They follow the same principles of dedication, ruthless cunning and above all: the will to do what must be done. I don't give a hoot about all this Force nonsense and pointless debate around it, but I can say that the Sith Order as far as I know has one advantage... they are the one's closest to my headquarters and thus the most interesting to deal with at this point in time."

 

[Drane T'keen]

If the Sith thrive. In truth, Drane was only a Sith to begin with for the war that was promised to the Thyrsian. It wasn't a vision he had. It was simply their philosophy that appealed to him. They promised power. They also offered him the means to his end. He lived and would die by the sword and they gave him a lightsaber for him to accomplish his life's purpose.

"Are they indeed?" Drane asked disinterestedly. All in all, this was an entertaining conversation, mildly diverting alongside the performance of Don Copoyo who had choked and, for a moment, the audience didn't know if it was even genuine. Did Tertius? "They are not close to my home but neither am I on that note." He finished his drink. "I am but a ghost and, in reflection, I prefer my black jacket trimmed in gold than the gilded opera."

The end came and the audience clapped for the ballet. Drane gave the same. Credit where credit was due and all that. Whatever his counterpart's opinion, it didn't matter in the end. Some shows were good. Some were bad. Maybe the same could be said for ghosts in the shadows who waved their hand at the best moment.

"I bid you good fortune, sir, in whatever endeavor best suits you and, who knows, maybe we'll meet again." Drane offered Tertius a genuine smile, nodded his farewell, and turned to leave the vicinity. When it came to bumping into each other down the road, who knew? It was a small galaxy in truth.

[EXIT DRANE]

Tertius C. Nargath