Before the Darkness

[Srina Talon]

The question that the small woman posed about Geonosis seemed to have either surprised or confused her companion. She couldn’t be sure which. Slowly, she began to understand the significance, and his gentle touch to her cheek dashed her worries away like smoke in the wind. Her eyes fluttered closed as she leaned into his hand on instinct alone, as if it were the most natural thing to do, his assurances washing over her. Srina did not comprehend whom exactly she suddenly felt so bound to. “…Vicelord…”, she murmured as the title bubbled up from her subconscious. It appeared from nowhere, soundless, but a word she couldn’t mistake for anything else.

“You’re the Vicelord of the Confederacy?”, she queried, a certain amount of wonder, and respect leaking through her angelic voice. She was in the presence of a man that literally controlled entire worlds. How could her visions see fit to fill her with micro-snaps of his existence and skip out on that? Wasn’t that equally as important?

Nevertheless, his claims now made sense. He had entire control of a whole military force. Of droids as well, if she wasn’t mistaken, and more people than the Clans could ever send. His words held a truth that she felt deep in her chest, the clear strength of his will not lost to her as he offered a safe haven. He believed that he could protect her. Some part of her longed to obey—to also believe. It had simply been a hard road, and insecurities clung to her insides, leaving her with extreme reservations.

The pale-skinned woman seemed to physically wind down beneath his hand, but became almost startled when he withdrew. She didn’t understand the emotional response that flooded her when her body registered the Sith Lord pulling away. It felt almost as if she’d been lulled beneath some sort of spell and when it broke—she was left with a sense of having lost something incredibly important that she desperately needed to find. It faded gradually, especially because he was still so near, but it was still jarring.

Once inside the confines of Darth Metus’ quarters, hiding, hiding so sleepily in his arms, she longed to stay there. The state of his personal space was of little consequence. It was lived in, used, and felt like someone tinkered with schematics and spent time there. It wasn’t a showroom. She felt at home amongst the organized chaos. Srina nestled her small face against the wall of his chest and breathed deeply. It mollified her, somewhat, that he didn’t seem to want to let go any more than she did. “Take my time…”, she repeated with a choked laugh, trying to understand how in any world, she would manage that. “Right. I’ll do my best.”

His promise to remain close by was probably the only reason she was able to move. As it were, her arms felt like lead, and her stomach felt like she’d taken to swallowing rocks. She repeated that he would be waiting, that he would be there, over and over until she found the strength to place one foot in front of the other. She peeled her jacket off and hung it by the door before disappearing into the washroom.

Curiosity left her to tinker with a few things in the refresher before the water could finally be heard running. Srina breathed in the welcome steam and made neat, folded piles out of her clothing, with her boots by the door. In contrast to the sleeping area, this room was spotless, without so much as a washcloth on the sink. The Echani found some sort of shampoo and cleanser that didn’t smell too strongly and decided that it was better than nothing. If anything, at the moment, it reminded her of her Master and it actually served as a comfort. Everything in her told her to stop what was she was doing and go back to him. She actually had to pause, focus, talk herself out of it, and then continue.

Sometime later she appeared, tiny form almost swallowed in a towel, silver eyes cautious. She sucked in a deep breath when the chilled air met her skin and moved fairly quickly behind Darth Metus’ head. He was a gentleman and never turned from his datapad. She found the sentiment oddly endearing before she slipped back into the washroom to get dressed.

Srina wasn’t entirely sure whom had changed her clothes the first time, but she suspected it to be the attendant droid, since the little machine kept ushering Metus in and out of the room. If he had been the one to take care of her before he would have noticed the not yet healed bruises that mottled her core. Evidence, which proclaimed loudly her people did not treat her gently when they crossed paths. Her visions had hampered her in the last few skirmishes, distracting her, when she needed to focus. She was glad when the soft black cotton hid the sight of it. Something told her that Darth Metus would not be pleased.

She dried her long white-gold hair with the built-in facilities and emerged from the refresher feeling much more like herself and less like a street urchin. Her clothing was left on a shelf in the washroom. “I’m decent.”, she spoke softly, toying with a length of silken hair that fell over her shoulder. It was much longer than it initially appeared, once it was pulled from the braids and plaits she preferred. “Though…I might have used all the hot water.”

Bare feet padded across the floor as she approached him, both out of curiosity, and need. Srina was stubborn. She didn’t like being pushed around by the Force—but she also couldn’t deny that being away from the Sith Lord was almost painful. Fighting the pull felt impossible. Her hand came to rest on his shoulder and she could feel her entire body relax. Her every cell seemed to settle. It wasn’t as close as she wanted to be, but it would do, for now. “What are you doing?”

A quick glance at the datapad told her he was making arrangements for their trip. Still, she remained curious. The hot water had woken her to a degree. Not enough to go running around the ship but enough that she could stand on her own two feet for a little while. “I thought we were headed to Geonosis...What is on Ryloth?”

Sooner than later he would begin to understand, that above all else, the Echani was curious. She also had little qualms about asking what she wanted to know.

[member="Darth Metus"]

 

[Malok]

You're the Vicelord of the Confederacy?

"The one and only."

* * *

Darth Metus used the squeak of the pipes as a sign that it was safe to rise from his seat. With the door securely closed between them and the water running, the Sith took a few moments to busy himself about the room. His first mission was, of course, procuring a proper garment for his apprentice to wear. The aforementioned black shirt was promptly laid out on the side of the bed closest to the washroom door, as to spare Srina a lengthy trip into the chill of the room.

Following this, he took a few moments to straighten up.

Although lived in was the definite label that could be applied to the space, the Sith did take a few moments to put things in their proper place. His stray tools were returned to the drawers and racks upon the walls. His electronics and scattered pens all made their way back to the desk. When it was all said and done, Darth Metus slid into his seat - satisfied that his room was at least suitable now for a guest of her caliber. Yet, above all else, the cleaning "spree" was a distraction.

It was a way to take his mind off of the chill that appeared in her absence.

Put into words, it felt as though he were the one abandoning the warmth of a fresh shower in favor of the chill of his room. Her absence crept into his bones. And although she was but a few paces away, the distance was damning. Inhaling a deep breath, he flipped over his datapad and began to distract himself all the more. First and foremost, he sent a missive back to the personnel upstairs. He did not take the concerns of his Apprentice lightly, and therefore made certain that her ship would be arriving on Geonosis shortly after their arrival.

From that point he set about planning his next week of travel.

Squeak....Swooosh....

The cold ebbed for only a moment as Srina braved the cold of the room for a few seconds. Darth Metus did not look up from his datapad, however, as this brief departure from the washroom was only to retrieve the garment he had provided. Despite this, the temporary break in the cold was enough to shatter the man's focus and cause him to lean back in his seat. He found himself waiting...counting the very seconds until he heard the Swoosh of the door once more. And this time, she spoke. "That's fine, I'll hop in later." came the Sith's response.

While Srina had wandered in the worst of Coruscant's rain for hours, Darth Metus had only been exposed for a few minutes at best. In his mind, he could easily freshen up with some dry shampoo and catch a nap instead of braving the icy waters. And speaking of ice...all that was winter melted away when her hand came to rest on his shoulder. They relaxed in tandem, and Metus felt himself leaning in her direction. "I'm planning our route for the next week or so." he began, before being met with another question.

And frankly, Srina's curiosity was met with open arms in Metus. Without missing a beat, he admitted: "If everything's on schedule, an actual home." He paused for a moment, realizing that he had only just told her that he resided on Golbah City a few moments ago - and thus explained. "Geonosis is where the Vicelord is expected to live. It's our capital and everything that is important is within walking distance. I own a suite there, but I haven't had a proper home in quite some time."

He left out the part where his last actual homes had a habit of being burnt to the ground. The first was torched by angsty traitors whilst the second was consumed during Mandalore's destruction.

"But I've decided to invest in settling down on Ryloth moving forward." he said, swiping on the datapad so that he might show her images of the floorplan. "There'll be room for you as well. Your own room. I'll make sure it has a view."

Gingerly, he backed his seat up so that he might stand. "Come now, get comfortable. Before we came aboard you were practically sleepwalking." As if to illustrate the point, the Sith kicked off his boots and, unceremoniously, flopped onto his side of the bed. His feet quickly found and moved up to his offhand a spare quilt which he then draped over his torso - a move meant to illustrate giving the young woman proper space. He would rest atop the comforter while she could take full advantage of the cover and sheets.

Suffice it to say, he wanted this to be as awkward-free as possible.

"When you wake, I'll get you something to eat. Any preferences?"

[member="Srina Talon"]

 

[Srina Talon]

The pale-skinned woman felt a small mote of remorse for using all of the hot water but the Sith Lord’s flippant response washed it away. A brief smile bloomed across her soft features when she came nearer to him, unable to deny the need for contact, and she audibly sighed when he leaned into her. As inconvenient as it was to feel so tethered to someone else; Srina couldn’t find the will to hate it. She was annoyed with the Force for imposing its illogical will upon them but the effect was staggering. The small woman had not known peace, safety, or security since leaving Eshan.

She remained quiet when he explained what he’d been up to on the datapad. His voice was soothing, a balm to an ache that she hadn’t even known existed. “I haven’t been planning for much recently. I used to in order to try and stay one step ahead of the people pursuing me.”

“But more often than not I wound up tossing it out the window. Every time I brought my E9 into a port they were there. At first, I thought they were tracking my ship. Somehow, it’s me that they follow. There’s no other explanation.”

Yet another warning, a nervous habit, about the dangers of harboring her. Darth Metus went on to explain that he was building a home on Ryloth and her white-gold head nodded softly. She understood, more than most, feeling homesick. She hadn’t fled to the stars out of some need for adventure or flight of fancy. She’d essentially been chased away from the entirety of her life due to the selfish whims and wants of another. Srina didn’t know much about the planet aside from the basics. It had regained independence and tended to be hot, much hotter than her homeworld.

The small Echani leaned closer to see the images of the home, no, the fortress, that her Master was intent on building and felt another wave of awe. Her home on Eshan was no hovel but it wasn’t this either. Only the Queen had a palace that even came close. Silken hair spilled down, falling over his shoulder as silver eyes curiously lingered on the datapad, but she paid it little mind. “It looks gargantuan. Remarkable.”

Her body stiffened a little bit when the dreadlocked man explained that there was also room for her in his personal estate. She was flattered, warmed to the core, but at the same time felt incredibly guilty. Srina felt woefully inept to the man beside her and it wasn’t a feeling she was used to. “This closeness we feel…You said it may not last. You offer me so much, and I offer little more than trouble. You don’t need to promise me things you may later regret. If you change your mind....I won’t hold it against you.”

The Sith Lord moved from the chair to the bed, and the apprentice obediently followed, orbiting around him in the same way a planet spun around the sun. She circled the bed with innate grace, swallowing hard at the magnetic pull that would not relent, pretending as if it hardly affected her. Her movements were deliberate and precise as she turned down the covers on the opposite side of the bed and sat down neatly on the edge. The shirt she had borrowed rose with her movements, but she twisted, bringing her knees up together so that she could scoot in and retain her modesty. “You know…You’d be sleepwalking too if you spent months looking for someone you weren’t sure existed…”

Her tone was teasing, laced with hidden wit, as she lay down on the pillows beside Darth Metus. Her flaxen head remained still for a moment before she sighed. The bed was soft, more pleasant than anything she’d slept on it quite some time, but it didn’t feel right. “Anything that isn’t still wriggling. I prefer my meals to be quite dead by the time I put a fork in it.”

There was a story there, somewhere, but for the time being, she didn’t elaborate. Instead, she sat up a little, the bedspread bunching near her waist, and slid an arm beneath the spare quilt her Master was using. He wasn't close enough. Feeling the weight of him beside her with his warmth seeping through the thick covers was almost frustrating. So near, but too far. Srina prodded his arm until he moved it so that it could fall around her and in turn her own appendage draped over his abdomen. Small fingers curled into the material of his shirt as her head found a safe place between his shoulder and chest. White-gold hair seemed almost like a blanket about her form as she curled closer, starlit strands partially obscuring her face. “That’s better…”, she nearly purred drowsily, eyes closing against her will. She was tired, but she had so many questions, so many things she wanted to say. Instead, her mind slipped back to her earlier concerns regarding space. “You were right…It is a big room…big bed. Lot's of space.”

Ironically, since she had closed the gap between them, they were only using a fraction of it. Nothing about it felt awkward or strange to her. She’d known him for hours, but he felt as if he’d always been there, invisible, waiting. The fact that she could relax so easily against him was a display of trust that the Echani didn’t usually have. Something between complete exhaustion and the sound of his heartbeat caused her to drift off mid mumbled sentence. Her words were almost childishly soft and completely unintelligible. If he asked her later, she wouldn’t recall the sweet ramblings.

Her sleep was dreamless, mercifully, and eventually, the only sound she made was that of even breathing.

[member="Darth Metus"]

 

[Malok]

I won't hold it against you.

An audible sigh escaped the Sith as the pale beauty expressed her worry. It was indeed true - they were bound by the whim of the Force and the need it created would face over time. However, mystical bond or not, Darth Metus was a man of his word. His gaze met hers, briefly, whilst an edge of severity burned within the sulfuric depths. "Srina..." he breathed. "This is no dream. Bond or no Bond, you will not awake one morning to find that I've miraculously changed my mind. There is...a commitment that is formed when one takes an apprentice - a promise that I will guide you and protect you."

He paused for a moment, his gaze unwavering. What he said next could have been anticipated. As a man burned...as a man who had checked her intentions at the door, she could assume he had been through a knife in the back before. She could assume that betrayal was the sole factor that could shatter their bond. "So long as you remain loyal to me, I will always keep this word. You have nothing to fear, understand?" Having said thus, the Sith and his charge migrated across the room and settled into his bed. And, although he had acted in a manner that respected her person, it would seem as though the bond demanded more.

And frankly, the Sith wasn't complaining. As she fumbled against the comforter ever so slightly, he scooted as to accommodate her whim. Then, when at last she settled with an arm about his person, Darth Metus' own arm gingerly draped over her in return. He gave her a light squeeze - a sigh of her safety here - before returning his attention to the datapad.

"I'll keep it simple then, and make sure your meal is certainly dead. Rest well."

***​

Savory...

Robust...

A plethora of aromas would be the beacon that roused the Echani from her slumber. When eventually her eyes creaked open, she would see that her Master had remained rooted in place. As they were hurtling through the depths of Hyperspace, estimating how long she had been asleep would be an impossibility by glancing through the viewport - but the selection that had arrived gave the hint that it was morning somewhere. After several hours of proving wordless comfort, the Sith briefly retracted his arm from her person so that he could better accommodate the tray provided to them by a Droid.

Upon it laid a plate bearing a pair of omlettes - each adorned with tomatoes, onions, and bustling with cheeses. In addition, a few pieces of toast accompanied by minute mounds of fresh jam or butter rested on a smaller plate. An even smaller bowl contained a few pieces of fruit; and lastly two mugs were present. For the Sith, a freshly brewed mug of caf clearly prepared with extra cream. For Srina, an excessively fragrant mug of tea - most likely from a Cassius tree.

"Good morning, sunshine." came the Sith's greeting, followed by the prompt departure of the Droid. He said nothing more for a moment, opting to stuff a bite of toast into his mouth. Once he had chewed it over and swallowed, he set the bread down and outstretched a hand. The Force beckoned to his call, plucking open a far drawer. Srina would easily be able to lean forward to see the primary contents: a polished box that swung open at the call of her Master. Within which laid a plethora of crystals upon a satin cushion - and a sapphire-hued crystal then hovered over to his grasp.

"Both our homeworlds," he began, referring to Eshan and Mandalore respectively, "place value on other tools above a lightsaber. However. In my experience, there is nothing more effective in dispatching an enemy. There is no better personal protection. There is no better symbol of power."

He offered the crystal to her, extended it gingerly.

"At the heart of every lightsaber rests a crystal - just like this one. It must be made to serve you and you alone...and so this will be your first challenge as my pupil. This crystal is very much alive, and so you must break it. You must pour your heart into it - your pain, your fears, your struggles, until it bleeds. At that point, your blade will become a magnificent crimson and will serve you alone."

"You will not accomplish this in an hour or in a day. But, when you have eaten your fill, I will show you how to begin."

[member="Srina Talon"]

 

[Srina Talon]

Srina felt her eyes shoot to the Sith Lord’s face when he spoke her name. She’d never heard it like that before. As if she were important, somehow, beyond the measurement of her fighting unit. Her mercurial gaze remained, lingering, lost in sulfuric depths that seemed to have little end. She nodded slowly, mutely, when he again promised to guide and protect her regardless of what happened when the Force ceased mercilessly pulling them together.

Slowly, she raised her free hand, as if to touch his face—but she paused and pulled her hand back to her chest. Instead, she smiled, softly, with silent assurances whispering in storm-gray eyes. “Then I will have nothing to fear.”, Srina murmured, melodic tones honeyed and honest. She could no more betray this man than she could herself. The loyalty she felt was binding in a way she knew not how to describe.

Not long later she found herself swept away to dreamland, safe and warm, in the arms of her Master. It was one of the few times recently in which she could remember her mind remaining silent. As if something had finally settled in her core and her visions could now cease in their cruel efforts to tear her limb from limb.

When she awoke, likely hours upon hours later, she was greeted with the scent of something wonderfully delicious. A soft whine escaped her, half awake, and half asleep. Her cheek nestled against the warm body partially beneath her and that was when she stilled. Her hand slid over, resting on a muscled abdomen, before she tensed and tilted her head up. Sleep filled eyes registered the face of Darth Metus and in a rush the events of the day before came back to her. She breathed deeply, before putting her head back down, relieved and comforted.

He moved, presumably to help with the food a droid had brought, but Srina stubbornly remained. The scent of hot tea in the air roused her more than anything else but she liked it where she was. Srina couldn’t remember the last time she’d woken and actually felt like staying in bed. When she didn’t panic, because the lack of awareness left her vulnerable, and her Echani brethren made certain that she knew there was nowhere to hide. “Good Morning, Master.”, she whispered, testing the way the word felt on her tongue, and in her mind. It didn’t feel nearly as odd as she thought it would to refer to someone in such a way.

Srina began to pay attention when the dreadlocked finished his toast and something happened outside of her field of vision. She pushed herself up just a little bit to see better but was soon dazzled by a crystal floating effortlessly to Darth Metus’s outstretched hand. He began to speak, but silver eyes remained on the object he held and eventually presented to her. Soft fingers accepted it, curious and careful. The smooth blue facets reflected the light and she turned it over in a quiet examination.

The notion of pouring everything she was into what equated to be a stone felt foreign to her. Yet, his words, his voice, or perhaps even his tone seemed to mean everything. He encouraged her to eat, but she didn’t really want to put the crystal down, so she held it in one hand while she reached for the piping hot tea. Her mind was whirling. How did she break it without throwing it to the floor? “Thank you.”

Srina leaned back against the headboard, lets legs beneath the blanket, angled toward the Sith Lord. She sipped gingerly at the tea and sighed with contentment. “Have you been here the whole time? How long was I out…?”, she trailed off, letting her head tilt back as she breathed, white-gold hair spilling down slender shoulders as she moved.

However it was possible, all she wanted to do was curl back up beside Darth Metus, and stay there. But it was time to get up. It was time to move, time to learn. Still…She found herself reaching for his hand and picked it up, wrapping her thumb and pointer around a few of his fingers, with the crystal trapped in the rest. She felt better than she had before. Safer. Srina couldn’t quite tell if she was any less dependent but she knew they couldn’t stay in bed all day. “If your crystals turned red…How long did it take you to break them?”

Her expression became concerned then, with the realization, that if Darth Metus had a crimson lightsaber, that he too must have poured all of his struggles and pain into the crystal. That meant that at some point he had experienced such pain that it was possible. That he must have felt angry—that he must have felt pain so visceral that it became real. Red.
"Can you tell me about it?"

[member="Darth Metus"]

 

[Malok]

Thank you.

"You're welcome."

His response was simplicity itself - exclusively due to the fact that he was attempting to balance their breakfast tray upon his thighs while she continued to awaken. Her movements, although gentle, were enough that the Sith made certain not to see their meal meet an untimely demise upon the bedroom floor. Or worse - as there was a piping hot mug of caf situated only a mere fall's distance away from his inner thighs.
However, balancing act aside, he did take a moment to appreciate the wonder plastered upon his Apprentice's face. The crystal's bright facets gleamed, reflecting within the depths of her eyes. For a moment, the Sith wondered if he had actually been the one to select her crystal, what with all the providence that had already colored their budding relationship. It just seemed to suit her.

But, even if there was a hypothetical part that did not suit her...she would make it along the way.

Reaching, Darth Metus liberated the cup of caf from the tray and raised it to his lips. The rush of hot caffeine was enough to shake the grogginess that had accumulated over their time laying next to each other. However, the flavor was...off. The balance of sugar to creamer was poorly administered, thereby leading to the Sith prematurely setting it back down upon the tray. "They never get it right." he muttered, only to find Srina's fingers claiming his offhand.

Darth Metus smiled and gingerly squeezed her hand in response.

"I was here the whole time, yes." he said with a light chuckle. "You needed the rest and I was not about to disturb you." He would never admit to dosing off as well. Never. The question regarding his own lightsaber crystals caused his smile to waver ever so slightly.

"My first crystal took weeks. If not for the war that was going on at the time, it most likely would have taken longer." He began. "I was very young with my first crystal. Just shy of twenty. The whole of my pains had been trivial - I had not yet gone through anything that would break a crystal in any brief span of time."

He suddenly became keenly aware of his second - and current - lightsabre on his person.

"As for my current saber...well, breaking that crystal took a matter of minutes." At that point, the Sith trailed off. He did not know when was the proper time to divulge his current state of being...but something compelled him to be honest with her. Maybe it was a muted sense of honor that demanded that any relationship should not begin with half-truths. Maybe it was the Force rearing its ugly head once more. Whichever the case, a solemn exhale soon escaped him, followed by the truth.

"You've heard of Mandalore's calamity yes? All the volcanoes erupting at once? Trillions dead? Recent history." he began. "My family, decades ago, thought it was a good idea to build their estate on the base of a dormant volcano. As such, we were at ground zero when it all began. There were too many of us to evacuate - not enough ships for such a thing. So I...I put everything I had into making a rift. I saved them."

A vision would play before her eyes, implanted directly by the Force. A man, garbed in beskar, lying before the lava flow. His armor, once a bastion, was not a prison. He did not have the strength to move. He choked on ash. The pain...The pain...He burned away.

"I...Did not make it out alive myself. But. When I 'came to' I saw my late brother, Ember." The very same Ember who helped him capture the Ferocity. "And for a moment, I had moved on. But the screams...the screams of the trillions pulled me from eternal bliss. When they heard who was responsible...when I heard that the man who showed me what it was to be a Mandalorian was responsible..."

"My wrath alone was enough to bring me back."

He did not go into details regarding his time as an Undying spirit, caught in a perpetual state of experiencing his own demise. Nor did he explain how he came to be in the state he was - in flesh and blood. And, the expression now plastered upon his face would and should be enough to encourage her not to press for details. "In any case...that anger...that agony...was more than enough to break the crystal of my current saber."

Sip.

[member="Srina Talon"]

 

[Srina Talon]

Srina reached carefully for the breakfast tray and pulled down a set of legs from either side that let it sit across his lap without needing to balance it. Silly men, always liked to do things the hard way, as her Mother might say. He handed the crystal not long later and she took her time to appreciate it. It seemed to be more than just a crystal. If she focused hard enough, she felt like she could almost hear it resonate, but eventually, she passed it off as her imagination. She turned it over in her fingers for several long moments, mirrored eyes careful, analytical.

There wasn’t much that her Echani eyes didn’t see.

“Thank you for staying with me.”, she murmured quietly, sweet voice breaking the stillness as if it were made of glass. Her chest felt warm with the notion. Waking up alone would have been awful and jarring. There was nothing in her that wanted to move, even now, but she knew that it was time. She couldn’t stay in bed on the Ferocity forever, no matter how very, very tempted she was.

Her question about his lightsaber crystals seemed to have an ill effect on her Master. His smile was not what it once was. She sipped her tea quietly as he began to explain, granting him her full attention, despite the crystal that felt almost alive in her hand. Srina tried to imagine the dreadlocked man in his youth. Just barely of age, by humanoid standards, and free from the darkness of the verse. She was granted a small vision of a younger man, a less jaded, less learned individual. He was still handsome. Just, different.

The white-haired woman could feel her heart still at the notion of breaking a crystal in minutes. She had heard of what happened on Mandalore. Everyone had. The more anger, the more pain, the faster it would crack and bleed. She held his hand freely, fingers moving carefully, a gentle caress in order to offer silent comfort. She could sense his hesitation but she didn’t truly understand the source of it. He thought to protect her whereas she simply believed the memory to be too uncomfortable.

His voice was a soothing bass that pulled her in before she knew what was happening. Force Sight drew her down, swallowed her whole, before she could even to think to try and stop it. She found herself in a temperate, however nearly inhospitable planet, where life was often synonymous with a fight for survival. She saw desert. She saw the volcano. She saw HIM burn. She could feel the flame, feel the agony, and silver eyes filled with tears and horror.

Just as the walls had groaned in Verd Industries, the walls of her Masters bedroom in the Ferocity suddenly seemed to strain, as if pressure were building. Srina trembled like a lonely leaf on a dying tree, her body responding without her will to the trauma, eyes seeing without sight. She could not see Darth Metus in the present. She could only see him in the past. The long, agonizing, painful death of being cooked alive in his armor. His skin began to crack and peel as fatty tissue melted. The smell caused her breathing to come in sharp, quick breaths, the ash and smoke godlessly choking him. Choking her.

All at once it seemed as if gravity had lifted from the room. Her hair lifted of its own accord and her tears remained suspended glittering jewels. Her pulse moved faster, too fast, and her tea rose from her glass in a rolling blob. The items on his desks lifted, the blankets, the breakfast tray, his datapads… Everything moved and rolled through the air as if it had suddenly become weightless.
“No…”, she whispered, lips moving, though she couldn’t hear her own voice. “Please don’t go.”

Srina was desperate to stop the heat. If she could stop the heat, perhaps a bacta tank could help him, perhaps she could save him from this. The screaming was so loud…It was all she could hear. There was so much pain. She had to do something, she had to save him, she had to save them. A cooling wave poured from her core and turned his air-conditioned quarters into an icebox. His coffee, her tea, all froze and the steam from breakfast disappeared.

She looked down at her own hands…All she could see was blackened flesh. Yes. Agony. His agony. Her agony. The hole in her heart didn’t give her the ability to tell the difference. It didn’t matter how much cold she brought, how much winter, her Master still burned.

Mandalore still died.

[member="Darth Metus"]

 

[Malok]

He did not know what had triggered it.

Whether it was his words or the providence that had colored their relationship, Darth Metus could not say. However, after the brief recollection of his fiery demise, the Sith soon found that Srina's gaze was upon him...but not. Her eyes became glossed over, as if she was staring right through him. Distress rolled off her in waves - causing him to sit upright all the more. Tension characterized his bones, inspiring him to place their meal tray onto the adjacent end table quickly.

Before tending to his charge.

"...Srina?" he breathed, concern coloring his tone. Yet, there was no verbal response. However, a vicious groan tore through the room, as if it were a tin can being harrassed by external forces. A mere instinct for survival inspired urgency on the Sith's part now, for a similar display to the lobby could see the two of they ejected into the void of Hyperspace. And there was not a Dark Side tactic mighty enough to retrieve them from such an unfortunate demise.

Reaching, he placed a hand on either side of his Apprentice's face. The relative cool of his touch clashed with the hot tears that spilled from her eyes. "Stay with me Srina. Srina!" he said, his voice now raising. This time there was a verbal response...just not to him. Or perhaps it was? Perhaps it was to a him that she was seeing - a plea for him not to go. "I'm right here, I'm not going anywhere. Srina!" His fruitless words did nothing to stem the tide of her tears. With no better alternative, Darth Metus followed his gut.

And as the ice claimed the room, his brow gently met hers.

His eyes lulled to a close.

He fought against the tide of the Force's providence - defying the vision that kept his Apprentice captive. Before her mind's eye would he appear - a divine contrast to the inferno blazing before her. He stepped over the charred remains of what was and wrapped his arms around her, bringing cold and quiet. Where once there was fire, there would be darkness. Where once there was the wails of a dying man, there would be silence. And whilst he fought against her vision - desperately attempting to save her from the sheer anguish whilst preserving their lives - his words aloud were simple.

"Come back to me. I'm here, in the now. I'm here."

[member="Srina Talon"]

 

[Srina Talon]

The universe, the Force, was cruel. Lesson, learned.​

Heat rippled from the lava that spread all round, bubbling and surging forward, setting everything on fire and burning it down. The ash stung her eyes. Burned her throat. Her lips felt dry and cracked, the fair skin of her cheeks burning and blistering, as the subcutaneous tissue was damaged. Silver eyes watched the body of Darth Metus burn with a heart so heavy, so broken, that she all but gave up. If she couldn’t save one person—How could hope to save all these people?

Faces, faces, so many faces. So many people. So much loss.

She couldn’t hear the voice of her Master anymore. Srina couldn’t hear anything but the screaming. The sheer terror and pain of a planet full of people trying to escape, trying to flee, before the fire could consume them was overwhelming to the point of insanity. For all of her self-imposed rules and strengths…Comprehension of such sorrow, of such unadulterated agony, broke her to nothingness. She wept, as she never had, from deep in her chest, silent, and destroyed.

She could watch. She could feel it. She could do nothing. Nothing, but watch Mandalore burn.

She could do nothing but listen to its people scream.

Something new entered her tear-stained field of vision. She stared through him, emotions plain for him to see, the ends of silken hair burning away in the lava-flow. Her body would burn away. Just like the people. Just like the planet.

Srina was startled when she felt arms wrap around her, solid, and real. The flame dimmed. The ache faded. Her skin became whole, burns fading, tissue and sinew repairing itself in her mind's eyes. The little Echani welcomed the darkness, wholly and completely, burrowing into the force that embraced her and brought her salvation. The vision shattered. Bit by bit it fell apart, breaking at the seams, as reality fought to the forefront of her mind.

"Come back to me. I'm here, in the now. I'm here."​

​

Srina blinked, unsteady, eyes filled with tears that had yet to fall. Everything felt surreal and strange. There were hands on the side of her face, steadying her, drawing her from within herself. All at once there was the sudden sound of several objects falling from what looked like suspended animation. They crashed and Srina flinched as if something had struck her. She had no words as the temperature in the room began to rise. Her mouth opened and closed…But all that escaped was a raw exhale, a cross between a cry, and a scream. It was low, pained, and frustrated.

The small woman surged into the arms of the man in front of her, thoughtless of any propriety, and small hands seemed to fall all over. Checking. Her fingers touched his face, his hair, his shoulders, his chest. Just checking anything she could reach. Over, and over, unable to shake the image of his burning body from her mind. The crystal that Darth Metus had given her lay almost the covers, no longer a sapphire hue, but white and clear. For the moment, entirely forgotten.

The slender woman tried to hold it in, tried to catch her breath, tried to reason with herself that this was real. That what had happened took place long ago. Her Master was here, alive, breathing, and with her. Every time she witnessed a vision in which he was involved she felt the years begin to add up. In the real world she had only known him for days, at most, but in the current of the Force…She knew no one better. His pain, became her pain.

Srina was angry. She was furious. She was terrified and hurting in a way that her mind couldn’t follow.

“Faces…So m-many faces…”, she blindly uttered, speech stunted, a far cry from its usual elegance. Srina pressed let her arms wrap around her Master’s neck and pressed her face against his chest. She could breathe him in, feel his heart, his breathing. He was alive. Not burning…Not burning…”Please…”

“Please stay. Don’t do that…Don’t go there. Don’t die. Please don’t die. Please...Don't leave.”

[member="Darth Metus"]

 

[Malok]

At once there was warmth.

A cacophany rang throughout the room as [member="Srina Talon"] slowly crept back into reality. The storm of her might quieted down to a gentle trickle, releasing the items suspended straightaway. Gravity took over - slamming the Sith's belongings into the ground in complete disarray. Yet. Despite the fact that his possessions were now scattered, Darth Metus paid no mind. The whole of his focus - the whole of his concern - was upon the tearful eyes before him. Over and over did he repeat the words, and with each utterance did the world begin to return to normal. There was warmth, but it was not the inferno which raged before Srina's mind.

No. It was the recession of her vision.

With each passing moment did Darth Metus break through to his Apprentice until she was finally free. The vision of Mandalore was gone. Banished to the realm of nightmares. And in its place was a horribly shaken woman. He could feel his heart crack. Srina threw herself into his arms before her hands swept over his person. As if clinging to the reality before her, she seemed as though she were checking that he was indeed real. And when she had finished and was assured that he lived, her face soon rested upon his chest. Her words were pained. Her voice was broken.

And he held her close. His arms were her sanctuary - a warm and safe place. Just like that room on Eshan, Darth Metus would be her refuge.

"I'll never leave you." he breathed, raising his dominant hand. The flat of his palm gingerly stroked her hair, as if to offer comfort. "I'm not dying. I'm not dead. I'm here."

[member="Srina Talon"]

 

[Srina Talon]

Crap.

 

[Srina Talon]

Srina had been through endless days of counseling on how not to feel while engaged with an enemy. She had been taught that while compassion had its place, it had no purpose, no reason to exist on a battlefield. Mercy was reserved for those who had the ability to indulge in the fantasy of strict justice. Srina was a soldier. Not a civilian. She couldn’t afford to keep falling into these emotional pits that robbed her of all rational thought. Ever since she had first started dreaming of a sable-skinned warrior she had done nothing but feel. It was overwhelming.

Small hands shook, her body trembling against her will, and her arms remained around Darth Metus’s neck. Srina pressed her cheek against him and her forehead pressed against the warmth of his neck. Her insides felt as if they were burning, but on the outside, she felt as if she were freezing to death. As if she’d been walking around barefoot on Hoth after nightfall. Her teeth chattered against her will and she curled into his body as if she could hide inside him, where nothing would ever find her.

Silence was all she could offer at first. Once she found words, she was shocked, almost embarrassed at how panicked they sounded. Her thoughts were disjointed and unclear and it was more than obvious that she had been profoundly affected. Changed, almost, from what she had witnessed. The things she asked for were impossible. Childish. Everything that lived eventually died. That was the way of things. Even still, Darth Metus obliged her heartrending plea and as she felt his fingers in her hair, an unbidden shudder ran through her body. “You can’t promise that…”

“No one can. We’re all dying. Slowly…Every day.”, she murmured, parroting the words from her lessons on Eshan. The pale-skinned woman closed her eyes as she tried to pick up the mangled shreds that were left of her heart. This was why warriors, soldiers, learned not to feel. Echani were a complex species, full of contradictions and rooted deeply in tradition. All life’s experiences on a tactile and emotional level seemed to be available on a much grander scale than that of the typical near-human. The exhilaration of battle, the pleasure of sound, the feel of another’s touch upon their skin, was all heightened. The increased capacity for emotion lent the possibility of transcendent bliss or soul-wracking sorrow.

This was crushing, desperate, and devastating sorrow. Srina had scoffed and dismissed the notion of such a thing long ago. Military life had desensitized her to the concept of death, rather quickly, but it seemed that it hadn’t completely numbed her. Never had she suspected that “Kuthrae charnot alessenyi” was more than just a casual saying. Here, and now, she would believe it.

In the arms of her Master…She felt it possible. To die of a broken heart.

Ever so slowly the snowy-haired woman began to calm. Her breathing evened and her hold didn’t seem quite as restricting. He might have suspected that she had fallen back to sleep, but that was far from the case, Srina was merely trying to bring herself back to equilibrium. His closeness helped. She was protected, safe, and cared for within the perfect circle of Darth Metus’s embrace. He held her together and kept her from crumbling, at least until she could manage on her own. As her anger, fear, and pain faded and the last vestiges of her Force Sight disintegrated she breathed deeply before exhaling slowly. “…I feel like all I do is apologize to you. I’ve overreacted. I just can’t seem to regulate this…”

Not any aspect of it. The visions swept her away with the strength of a hurricane. She moved things without meaning to. Froze the air. Srina had no idea how any of it worked or how to stop it from happening. She wasn’t fully aware of throwing around his possessions or she probably would have felt worse. “I’m not used to everything being so far out of my control. I’ve been on the run for months, and even while fighting my people, avoiding capture, I’ve never felt so…”

‘Helpless.’, was the word she thought, bitterly, but did not say. Her breath hitched, as evidenced by her breathless tears before she steeled her will so that she could speak clearly. “Undisciplined.”

Srina pulled back a little bit when she felt something sharp biting into the side of her knee. Realizing that her oversized shirt had ridden up a little higher than she liked, one arm slid free from Darth Metus, and she edged it down, before blindly checking her knee. Her fingers came into contact with something surprisingly warm and when she brought it up between them the Echani felt confusion.

It was her crystal. The one that had only just been given to her, no longer sapphire, but clear as polished glass. It had the same edges. The same weight. Only now, it was colorless.

“How… Did this happen? Is that normal?", she questioned, trying to turn their focus away from her outburst, and back to her studies. She could not accept the weeping slip of a woman-child that she had become. Srina was stronger than this. Better, than this. She would not willingly allow visions of death and flame to bring her so solidly to her knees. "What should I do now?”

[member="Darth Metus"]

 

[Malok]

You can't promise that...

"I want to." he breathed. "Even if it's impossible."

As the young woman wound her arms around her neck, burying into his embrace, the Sith wished more than anything to shield her from this. The terror which rolled off of her in waves...the sorrow...the distress...all plucked at the core of his being. To see her like this rattled him, to the point where he completely ensnared her in his arms. Gingerly, his lips graced her brow as she spoke - a meek attempt at comfort - whilst she spoke the weight of her heart.

We are all dying. Slowly. Every day.

And even he, who had clawed himself back from his demise, was subject to this quiet killer. The Sith...couldn't help but shake his head at how pragmatic his apprentice was - even in the face of her visions. How logic centered her as she came down from the Forceborn terror. For a time, he said nothing, simply allowing his presence to offer as much comfort as he could. For a time, he simply graced her hair with the tips of his fingers, assuring her still that what she felt, now, was the real thing.

"You have nothing to apologize for." he began, briefly leaning back so that he might see her eyes. "There is not a soul in the Galaxy that has endured what you have - that has been at the mercy of the Force like you have." The rear of his hand brushed a stray tear away. "Control. Stability. Peace. All of these things will come in time...until then, you have nothing to apologize for."

Srina shuffled against him for a moment, then, briefly examining the sheets. Confusion colored her features as she retrieved his gift into her grasp. The crystal, once a pristine blue, had been robbed of its hue. "That is normal...though, typically achieved intentionally." he admitted, leaning forward so that he might inspect the crystal. From what he felt, the stone was silent. It did not sing with an aura of its own...but rather was still. Like an empty chalice, waiting to be filled. By Srina. "Now, you should keep it on your person as often as possible. Allow it to tune itself to you. In time, it will feel like...quiet...and more like an extension of yourself."

Leaning back, the Sith then examined the ruins of their breakfast. At least a piece of toast managed to survive the outburst and laid upon a platter. Darth Metus claimed the platter in his hand and offered it to his charge.

"Here. You should eat as well. When you're finished...let's get some fresh air."

It'd be good to get a change of scenary.

[member="Srina Talon"]

 

[Srina Talon]

Normally, Srina punched, kicked, or maimed anyone that got this close to her. It was expected. Darth Metus was different. She took comfort in him, the way she found comfort in her family, in her lessons, and it her combat training. He held her just as tightly as she clung to him, as if she were made of water, and he had become the river of which she flowed. He closeness felt like it belonged. Darth Metus had unknowingly turned a cold and mechanical world into something that almost felt like home. “I know…”, she breathed out, quietly acquiescing to his wants, wishing they could be true. “I wish you could.”

She felt his lips against her brow and remained steadfast where she was. Darth Metus couldn’t have known how much his presence helped, how he chased away the chill in her bones, and the ache in her heart. It was a slow process, and more than once, she had to stop herself from falling into despair. Just the thought of him melting away, of Mandalore becoming a wasteland, of so many people dying needlessly, split her in two.

Metus waved away her apologies, a habit that she had begun to notice, before pulling back just enough to see her face. Srina was embarrassed. Her typically fair countenance was hot, full of tears, and likely blotchy from the emotional outburst. She wanted to turn away, so he wouldn’t see her in such a weak and unruly state any more than he already had. Srina had wept more in forty-eight hours, had broken the perfect shell of her training more, than she had in all of her days at Larinkáoi. Her lithe form grew tense for a few moments, uncomfortable, but slowly relaxed at his assurances. “This isn’t how it should be? These….visions?”, she questioned softly, apprehension rising from beneath her breastbone. “These abilities are strange?”

If she hadn’t already felt like an oddity—she certainly did now. When she brought her crystal up for her Master to inspect she felt a sense of curiosity mixing with the leftover agony. It dulled the sadness eating away at the marrow of her bones enough that she could function. If she lost everything else, at least, she still seemed to have her intelligence. Her desire to learn. To become flawless, perfection. “I don’t even know exactly how it happened…”

“I wasn’t thinking about the crystal at all.”

That was the truth. Mostly, she’d been thinking of Darth Metus.

He advised her to keep it close, and she nodded her head, before pulling closing her fingers around it, holding her first to her chest. That seemed simple enough. Her Master leaned back and although her body protested the distance, she allowed it, and rest back on her haunches, legs tucked beneath her. With mussed waves of silver hair falling all around her the Echani seemed more like a little doll over a seasoned warrior. Silvered eyes were luminous and her skin remained too pale, yet stained with bits of coral, as she tried to take hold of her faculties.

Darth Metus offered her a piece of toast that hadn’t hit the floor and she took it almost shyly, feeling embarrassment flare again, in a way that she never had before. She’d always been in control, before. This was new territory, strange, and she wasn’t sure she liked it. “Yes, Master.”

Srina nibbled on the toast earnestly, still holding her crystal, while trying not to see the mess she’d made of his quarters. It was obvious that something had happened, that her ability had moved things, because not everything was sitting where it had been. Her teacup was broken on the floor beside the bed, with the tea itself frozen solid beside it. “Your servant droids are going to hate me…I hope I didn’t break anything.”

Once the pale-skinned woman finished she dutifully got out of bed. The ache, the pull, to return to Master was strong, but she managed, as she had the night before, and slipped inside the refresher to get dressed and try to herself look presentable. Not long later she returned, various pins and ties in hand, along with a wide-toothed comb. “It’s all yours…”, she murmured to the Sith Lord, before she sat down at the desk, and began to braid her hair back. It took time and it was something she could occupy herself with while Darth Metus readied himself for the day.

She reached out to him when he passed, briefly brushing her fingers against his, but let him go after a moment. Despite now having the appearance of a well-adjusted young woman she was still shaking inside. The poised woman did her best to hide it, and settled in, small fingers weaving delicate plaits, knots, and braids.

By the time Metus finished with his shower he would notice that she’d fixed some of the chaos in his quarters. Rather, she organized the tech that she’d knocked over, and cleaned the glass from the floor. Guilt was strong but her Master kept telling her not to apologize. That she didn’t need to.

So, rather than empty platitudes, she decided to clean up her own mess. Droids helped, bringing fresh linen, and he would enter to see her tucking in the corners tightly. Silvery eyes would remain averted until she was sure he was dressed enough for her to look.

[member="Darth Metus"]

 

[Malok]

These abilities are strange?

Reflexively, the Sith parted his lips in order to respond to her questions - but the apprehension in her voice gave him pause. The answer which almost leapt from his lips was purely academic, citing experiences had at the feet of Rave Merrill and Gregor Gideon. However, Darth Metus had to reel back his response for a moment; electing to piece his thoughts together with a touch more empathy. "When it comes to the Force, nothing is normal." he began. "Some are...trained in particular methods and master them over time. Others are naturally attuned to certain areas from the get-go."

"You are of the latter type, although your attunement has been quite significant thus far."

Although he had worded his words carefully, a small part of him worried about the woman in his arms. By no means did the Sith want to make the young Echani feel like an abomination or anything of that sort; especially not after the whirlwind that she had just experienced. Thankfully, the conversation switched gears ever so slightly when she remarked on the transformation of the crystal. "That is exactly how it will be when it remains on your person." he answered. "You won't have to think about it becoming apart of you. It will happen. And, when you are ready, you can push it to the next level."

Your servant droids are going to hate me.

"This is nothing, don't fret about it." he said, offering a light smile. Shortly thereafter, Srina departed into the restroom for a few moments. Seizing this opportunity, Darth Metus practiced the "dirt won't hurt" doctrine and stole a piece of fallen toast from just beside the bed. A quick once over verified that nothing had contaminated it, visibly at least, before he decimated the morsel in a few bites. By the time Srina returned from the refresher, the toast was a memory. It's all yours... she stated, prompting the Sith to rise.

He felt that cold again.

It grew with every step he took.

As if Winter were around them and she were the bonfire.

Her fingers grazing his skin in passing were but the last vestiges of warmth before he braved the tundra of her absence. The door of the refresh slid closed behind him, followed by the sounds of water running. A shower's worth of minutes later, Darth Metus emerged from the refresher. Partially. At first, only his arm slid past the doorway, fumbling into the chest of drawers within reach. A few vital garments were snatched into his clutches before he disappeared once more, emerging semi-dressed. A pair of dark, cargo pants now occupied his legs, but no shirt as of yet.

Typically, this would have been retrieved from the dresser nearest to the desk, but the Sith paused upon stepping out.

"Oh come on." he began, his tongue still thick from the lashing his toothbrush provided. "Srini, you didn't have to do this."

He swallowed. Hard. "Srina." he corrected, hoping she'd understand that high-grade electric toothbrushes were absolutely mental on the tongue.

[member="Srina Talon"]

 

[Srina Talon]

His pause was noted. Echani eyes did not miss his hesitation. They couldn’t. Not even if she wanted to. Silvered eyes flickered, but she didn’t stop him, choosing to listen, versus dissecting his autonomic responses. Perhaps he would explain. She was partially satisfied. If only, because she could feel him holding something back. Protecting her. He was worried about her. “My ‘attunement’ is…”

Srina trailed off, once again, trying to find the proper word to describe something entirely indescribable. It almost felt like Eshan had been the catalyst for these abilities to grow. She’d been pushed harder than she’d ever been, exposed to more danger, to other Force users, and had been required to accept all of it graciously. “Difficult. I do not understand. Nearly every time I tap into these abilities it is entirely involuntary. It reacts to pain.”

“Anger. Even as I try not to feel it.”

Even if hardly anything was ‘normal’ as far as the Force went, his earlier words stayed with her, about her vision of Mandalore. Darth Metus had let it slip, that not a soul, had endured what she had. That not a soul had been at the mercy of the Force as she currently was. The statement, combined with his hesitation, led her to the conclusion that she was indeed an anomaly. Srina let it go as she examined the clear crystal in her hands. Perhaps, if she studied, and paid attention to Darth Metus, she would become less of an irregularity.

What she wouldn’t give not to have mind-breaking visions that had sorely tested the limits of her sanity.

A brief smile crossed wintry features as she kept turning the object in her fingers, watching the light reflect, from pane to pane. He thought that she was worried about the next level. Quite the contrary. She would still just trying to get used to the level she was currently on.

Srina slipped away not long after that to change back into her day clothes. When they passed between turns in the refresher she wondered, curious, if he felt the same draw. He seemed to welcome her with open arms when she approached; but that didn’t mean they shared the same level of attachment. It felt like a cross between a punishment and a security blanket. He was everything, near or far, only when he was out of reach the lack of his presence felt excruciating.

As if something were hollowing out her insides. Leaving her empty, incapable of joy, and very much so alone. The alabaster beauty would never understand it. Constantly, she asked herself how she could be so attached to someone, so trusting, with someone she didn’t know. Only…She did know him. Somehow.

She ignored him, mostly, when he reached out of the washroom to try and collect a few clothing items. The Echani wasn’t a stranger to a lack of clothing, but from what she understood, it was kosher to respect the modesty of others in most humanoid cultures. What Srina wasn’t prepared for was his rather strong reaction to her picking up the mess that her Force outburst had made. The small woman paused in mid-motion, letting the sheet fall to the bed as she looked away, unwilling to let him see the notes of unfamiliar uncertainty in her eyes.

The nickname, Srini, made her feel like a child that had been caught red-handed doing something she shouldn’t have been. It wasn’t as if she’d gone on a complete cleaning spree, but she turned partially away and sat down on the edge of the bed regardless, stopping everything she’d been doing.

“I’m sorry.”, she responded, a little forlorn, at the notion of him being displeased with her. “I just didn’t want to leave datapads on the floor. There was coffee melting in the blankets and…”, she exhaled in a slow huff, fingers pressing together in her lap.

She didn’t know how to do this. Srina needed to feel active and useful. Her lips quirked to the side as she reached for the nightstand and haphazardly knocked over a slim holo-projector that she’d found on its side. Her hands returned to her lap and her eyes lingered on the very neatly pressed bedspread before she again moved, surprisingly fast, and mussed the pillows.

There. Perhaps the minute amount of chaos would please him.

[member="Darth Metus"]

 

[Malok]

”You’re fi-”

The expression began to form and fall from his lips in response to the Echani’s words. Her forlorn expression immediately drew a desire to reassure and embrace. However, that sensation flew right out the window when Srina took it upon herself to bring a little “organized chaos” into his bedroom. First, a holo-projector fell victim to her antics, quickly being turned over on its side. Then, the pillows were viciously assaulted - being mussed away from perfection. ”Y’know what? Looks much better now. Thank you.” he said, as if to attempt to stay the tide of “mussing” that she did to his room.

What would be next? His datapad? By the gods no.

Beaming, the Sith crossed the room in but a handful of steps and reached out the dresser drawer. It slid open forthright, revealing a selection of basic shirts. Absent-mindedly, he plucked a navy blue crew neck and slid it over his head...prompting something to fall to the floor. ”Hrrng?” came the Sith’s expression. Turning on his heel, Darth Metus bent over in order to retrieve what had unknowingly been stuffed into his shirt drawer. And a light chuckle escaped from his lips. What now rested between his index finger and thumb was an actual, physical photograph.

”Forgot I had this…” he muttered, settling down on the edge of the bed. He didn’t have to verbally instruct Srina to join him, as she could most likely feel the tug of his emotions. Assuming she succumbed to the providence that had been defining their relationship thus far, he would then tilt the photo for her to see clearly. It was...not the most flattering image, to say the least. At the bottom of the photograph was a fallen beast - a Terentatek to be exact. Then, posing with one foot each upon the carcass was a significantly younger Darth Metus (as evidenced by the shorter dreadlocks and lack of facial hair) alongside a shorter woman. Raven hair, dark features, and an arm resting upon his shoulders.

”This was my Master and I a long, long time ago.” he began. ”Her name was Rave...Back when she was alive, she taught me everything I know about Alchemy. We took this photo after our first Terentatek hunt. Damn thing nearly tore my arm off that day.”

A light chuckle escaped him as he shook his head at the memory.

”I...I wasn’t her servant or anything like that. She was my greatest friend. I looked up to her, aspired to be her...and hero worship withstanding, I hope to be to you what she was to me.”

He then offered the picture to her for closer inspection.

[member="Srina Talon"]

 

[Srina Talon]

Srina seemed faintly mollified when Darth Metus thanked her for making a mess. If this was how he liked things, she’d be careful to leave a little chaos, every now and again. “You’re welcome.”, she responded with a little huff, before turning in his direction, when she felt that she’d given him enough time to get decent. He was momentarily shirtless but she didn’t bat an eye about it. Echani weren’t overly concerned with clothing, as a general rule, but her new Master quickly rectified it regardless.

The pale-skinned woman sat on the edge of the bed, fingers laced, as her sense of uselessness faded under his smile. It startled her a little bit that this man, whom she barely knew, could manipulate her carefully hidden emotions so easily. It seemed as if he barely had to try. Nevertheless, when he chuckled, she immediately focused. The sound was soothing, a perfect tenor, like honey to her ears. Not wanting to appear too eager she at least waited until he sat down to try and get a peek at what made him smile.

From afar, she was a little confused. It looked like a piece of paper.

The slender woman turned on her hands and knees and scooted toward Metus, before resting on her haunches, with her chin over his shoulder. She leaned a little bit so she could see better, white-gold hair slipping over his shoulder in pale, moonlit rivers. Srina was always curious and he would soon grow used to it. “What is it?”

Srina had never seen a painting so small. Pictures like this….They felt rare, to her. Most things on Eshan were either digitized or made by hand. Her mother was an artist, having completed her required term in the military, and was often commissioned for portraits. Her whole body sighed in relief at finally being so close again, feeling the warmth that was him, through his clothing, more than soothing. Everything about him brought her a sense of peace. Of belonging, safety, and home. His emotions beckoned her and like a lost child, she responded, needy, despite herself. Silver eyes surveyed the photo fully. “She’s pretty.”

It was true. Srina had always envied women with defining complexions and dark features. They were so different—her opposite in every way. Little fingers reached out to take the picture by the edges when he offered it and she sunk down a little, nuzzling into his back, while her gaze followed the younger version of the man she now knew. It was so strange. Almost like being displaced by time. “You look so different.”

She could hear her Master’s voice rumble in his chest, she merely lay her ear against him, enjoying the brief story time. “Rave of the Raven hair.”, Srina repeated, his fondness for the woman welling up within her, causing her to smile with affection that didn’t wholly belong to her. There was something else buried underneath that she couldn’t grasp but for the time being, she was pleased to bask in Darth Metus’s contentment.

He explained what his hopes were for their relationship and she smiled a little, even though he couldn’t he couldn’t see it. It was a beautiful sentiment that her insistence on picking up his room had likely spurred. Carefully, she reached over his shoulder and handed the picture back. “I know I’m not your servant. Even though you’ve requested that I call you Master, which I will abide, I am Echani. I am no one’s slave. Not now, or ever.”

“What I am… Is nervous. My abilities are strange, I’m bound to someone I’ve never met before, though I feel like I’ve known you all my life, and I have Echani Clans hunting me. When I’m anxious I clean. I made the mess in here when you’ve been nothing but gracious. It only felt right that I pick it up.”

Srina had a terrible case of idle hands. She did not like to be inactive and she had been sleeping far too long. There was nothing to hit, meditating felt impossible, so housework was the next best thing. There was a reason her ship, when Metus’s droids recovered it, would be found spotless. The apprentice remained, comfortable, and secure against her Master for a little while longer before she slowly moved to the edge of the bed, unfolded long legs, and stood up.

“So…What shall we do today? Will we arrive where we you planned soon?”

The little Echani reached down and took his hand, holding on to two fingers, just to keep the contact that kept her breathing. The distance seemed to feel less choking than it had—but coming back to him always felt the same. Easy. Right.

The Force really was a strange thing to behold. Strange, cruel, and perhaps compassionate? Srina wasn’t sure about that last part just yet.

[member="Darth Metus"]

 

[Malok]

Rave of the Raven hair.

Thunder escaped the mouth of the Sith - a spontaneous Ha! which immediately shook the whole of his being. The late alchemist had been known by a plethora of accomplishments, but never once had he thought to address his mentor as of the Raven hair. Ah he could see it now...the initial wrinkle of confusion upon the bridge of her nose before she cocked that half-smirk of hers. Rave would have gotten just as much a kick out of the title as Darth Metus now did. "She'd have liked that nickname," he began, absently leaning into his Apprentice ever so slightly. "and she would have liked you quite a bit."

As the smile persisted upon his face, Darth Metus could feel the affection bubbling up within the woman. Her silver gaze was - briefly - transfixed upon the picture; and in that moment their Bond reared its head. He could feel the years of friendship...of the unshakable companionship he had built with Rave...gleam within her eyes. And, although this was but another example of the day's oddities...the Sith was perfectly fine in sharing this experience. In truth, it was the first time in so long that he had reflected upon his late mentor. In truth...thinking about her life gave way to a reminder of who she was at the end. She was different - Light and Salt to the earth, compared to the shadow that was Darth Metus.

She turned away from Alchemy. Her apprentice kept sprinting towards it.

When the picture was returned to his hands, Darth Metus listened quietly as Srina put her feelings to words. Her worries were laid bare in that moment, despite the few words she used to express them. He was driven in that moment - extending his hand briefly to give her cheek a reassuring touch. "I understand." he said, simply. His fingers lingered for but a moment before the Echani rose from the bed. She, in turn, took his fingers into her hand while questioning what they would do today.

"Well, we aren't anywhere close to home, not yet." he answered, rising to join her. The picture was left upon the nightstand as the Sith turned towards the door. "Still have at least two days worth of travel to go, roughly. At the very least we can stretch our legs a little for the time being."

Leading the way, Darth Metus guided his Apprentice by the hand out of the bedroom. They took a left at that point, as he opted to take the long way to the Bridge this go round. Upon rounding the first corner, he would begin speaking once more.

"So, what do you know of my Confederacy?" came his question, half probing and half making small talk.

[member="Srina Talon"]

 

[Srina Talon]

His laughter made her smile. It was so sudden and unrestrained that she couldn’t help it. His happiness flowed, like honey, filling up and over the brim of a pot. Darth Metus leaned into her and she peeked up over his shoulder when he mentioned that his Master would have liked her. “Do you really think so?”, she questioned, nose crinkling with unintentional cuteness, as she analyzed the logistics of the statement.

He barely knew her…How would he know if Rave of the Raven hair would enjoy her presence or not?

Still…As she looked over the photograph…She couldn’t help but agree. Srina felt a fondness that didn’t belong, but it was edged with affection that she accepted and a bare truth. As close as she felt to the Sith Lord now, she could only imagine what it would be like in weeks, or months. It was almost freeing to feel so warm toward someone, without any of the usual social queues coming into play. There was no guesswork—No games. All that remained was a sense of comfort and belonging.

As she slipped to her feet, endlessly graceful, she paused only at the feeling of his fingers to her cheek. Srina couldn’t stop herself from leaning into his touch, eyelashes fluttering against pale flesh, before she smiled and captured the hand as if fell away. He stood with her and she kept his hand, lacing their fingers, as she had done before they boarded the Ferocity. “Close to home…That sounds so strange…”, she mused aloud, trying to keep thoughts of Eshan, and her family, locked where they belonged.

She wanted to forget, even for just a few moments, that her home, the place of her birth, was now hostile to her. Were the state of the planet and the government not in such chaos there might have been a fighting chance at tackling the issue legally…But now—It was a bad game of he said she said. Srina wasn’t strong enough to face those demons, not yet, anyway. Until she was…There was no point in dwelling on what she could not change.

Any sort of movement, even just stretching their legs, sounded wonderful to the Echani, although Srina paused by the door, hesitant to leave without her vibroblades. She made the split-second decision to leave them behind. What use could she have for them on a ship traveling through hyperspace? She followed Darth Metus easily, noting new things that she hadn’t realized about the ship the first time. She’d been too groggy the day before to really appreciate it.

She reached out and let the fingers of her free hand race along the wall, memorizing the paths they took, despite the color-coded lines on the floor. If she took the longest routes she could probably get in a good jog every now and then. Activity calmed her. Srina looked up at the dreadlocked man beside her when he asked her of the Confederacy and her lips twitched to the side. “Not much, I’m afraid…”

“I’ve spent most of my time since leaving my homeworld running. I didn’t have much time for current events or sight-seeing…”, she admitted a little sheepishly, but quickly schooled her features into nonchalance. Darth Metus, Srina realized, made her forget her training. She wanted to laugh, smile, and cry in his presence. That was highly irregular. “I know that you have a fondness for Droids…”

“And that this Confederacy is not the same as it once was. So…About as much information as you can place in a thimble. Tell me of it?”, she questioned, ever curious, and hoping she hadn’t offended him. It wasn’t that Eshan was terribly sheltered, but moreso, that her life as a Seeker was terribly involved. She barely had time for their own political issues and trade problems versus the rest of the galaxy.

Now, she wished she’d been a little worldlier in her studies. If it didn’t involve weapons, armor, and or fighting styles it was generally lost on her.

[member="Darth Metus"]