Private Beskar Woods, Dark and Deep

[Zlova Rue]

Zlova laughed. "I can do it. Just few are worth the effort. You'll find anyone like me feels the same. They all want obedient tools or someone that'll reflect well on their egos. Often both." The Twi'lek smirked. "And you would be forced to endure trials as my pupil, but I'll do my best not to objectify you." Said the red woman that did nothing to keep people from getting eyefuls of her.

A Mandalorian that used the Dark Side... not unheard of, just rare. Especially among those of the Enclave. They'd have to discuss such matters out of earshot of the rest or Valerian would get "dar'manda" thrown in his face loudly and often. Despite Zlova not being a kind person, she could appreciate the detriments to becoming a pariah.

She canted her head to the side with an even larger smirk. "Cover these? I earned each and every one of these. Whether I would have chosen to or not, both the act and the pincerbug's kiss are mine, and if anyone has a problem with either they're welcome to my boot in their face." It would be something of a challenge for Valerian to convince her to cover up. It had taken Talohn quite some time to convince her to wear armor... on occasion for her safety. What people thought of her didn't matter. Especially if it was hatred.

As for the idea of offering a helping hand, Zlova's brow drew lower over her eyes as a twisted smile touched her lips. "I teach them how to survive encounter with Sith. What 'help' do they need?" Was he advocating some kind of community outreach? Convince them she was a nice person? Zlova wasn't a nice person. She wasn't a raving lunatic -- arguably -- but that didn't make her 'sweet' by any stretch. Besides, she was amicable to those that earned it such as Kranak VIzsla.

"Come on. I know a place nearby, unless you've got somewhere in mind?" Anyone that needed a stiff drink had only to ask Zlova; she practically knew every place on Kestri where you could find one. You weren't living if you didn't have a few vices.

Valerian Calore

 

[Valerian Calore]

"When you say that you'll try not to objectify me what do you mean by that? You gonna tattoo me and make me walk around shirtless like you do? I doubt the husbands around here would like that their wives can't keep their eyes off me." He wasn't overly modest by anymeans, but Valerian didn't think that anything good would come out of strutting about half-naked among families. Well, nothing good that was particularly likely to happen.

Valerian shrugged as she spoke of her refusal to cover up, and the reasons why. He could respect it, if she'd worked hard for them, and bore the pain against her will, he'd let sleeping loth-wolves lie, not like he had a personal stake in it anyway. "Fair enough, if you won't here it from me anymore, but I don't have to tell you how it makes you look to the close-minded." He wouldn't nag her, she'd been dealing with the consequences of her attired for alot longer than he'd been bearing witness to it; she could make her own choices.

"The Force has a lot of use for regular people, I'm sure if you offered then they'd find something for you to do that'd take less than a few minutes.' He'd done it himself for a while, ever since he was a child he'd been conscripted to help neighbors and relatives with various chores, not that many of them took very long, it was just a long lesson in humility from his father. "Just try it sometime, maybe you'll make a friend or something."

"Lead the way, I've got no clue about where the good bars are on this rock." He motioned for her to walk, and would follow her wherever she went, paying little attention to little else besides the Lethan next to him.

Zlova Rue

 

[Zlova Rue]

Zlova tilted her head back as she laughed. "Tattoo you?" She reached out to slap Valerian's back. "Right, we'll take the daily transport to Korriban." No, she had no intention of tattooing anyone that didn't have the slightest inclination to walking the path of a true Sith. Despite the pain and even indecency that'd been involved, Zlova had respect for certain aspects of ancient Sith traditions. Let others demean them with their fad-like obsession with the Sith rather than any learned effort to understand their own beliefs.

As for how people perceived her... well that was the point. Maybe she'd explain some day, but while Zlova played along not demanding people obey her as a Sith Lord she wasn't ashamed of her past. If people had a problem with who she was, they were free to beg to be planted face-first in the ground anytime, anywhere.

"I have no time for fetching someone's pet up from an icy crevice," Zlova replied with a shrug. "The Cat keeps me busy enough. Sometimes I swear he's trying to keep me away from my Alchemical pursuits." The Twi'lek smiled to her self more than anything. Talohn didn't judge her for what she was or believed, but that didn't mean he might not try subtle ways of encouraging her to change. Hadn't worked so far. Ignoring the fact she seemed to care for him and the Catfish child.

"That is a crime," she declared before she started off in the direction of one of the local bars. A casual flick of the wrist had the metal rod from earlier skip across the ground until it rested up against the wall again. Maybe she wouldn't feel any responsibility if someone tripped and broke their neck, but that didn't mean she should leave the place a mess.

"So how long have you been on this desolate ball of ice anyway?" Zlova peered over at the man as they walked. If he didn't know where to get a good drink, he couldn't have been there that long, right?

Valerian Calore

 

[Valerian Calore]

Her words were naught but derision and amusement, and Valerian struggled to discern the two from the woman's tone. He felt that he'd have better luck convincing her to take up cooking and baking rather than doing anything that resembled something helpful to the people of Kestri. Not that it really surprised him, the Mandalorian was quick to call the Sith friend and share a drink with her after a spar, but he'd not allow himself to forget what she was, and what her nature drove her to do.

Valerian wondered if she'd always been this way, or if the teachings of the Sith had driven the Lethan to such cruel ways, hardened by a life under their teachings, turned away from many of the small things that made life enjoyable. Her words made him realize how little he knew about her, how much of the woman was beyond his knowledge, shrouded in mystery and hidden from view. The mulled his thoughts for a moment, trying to decide whether he'd ask Zlova about her past, eventually deciding against it after a few seconds, ruling that if she wanted him to know anything about her, she'd offer up the information herself.

"I only arrived a few days ago, and haven't too much time to go out drinking." Nor do anything besides coordinate with other members of the Clans for trade, and had been so wrapped up in it that'd neglected to take some time for himself. "Fighting you was the beginning of my free time on Kestri."

"Do you have money of your own, or am I gonna be financing tonight's drinks?" He gave her an appraising look up and down, noting that her lack of clothing also included a lack of pockets, and quirked an eyebrow at the short woman. "Forget it, I don't even know why I asked, consider tonight a prize for your victory in our bout. Drink as much as you want."

Zlova Rue

 

[Zlova Rue]

Zlova smirked. "Your first act of relaxing is to get into a fight. How Mandalorian of you." A quiet chuckle followed suit. "I'm not laughing at you. That's why I'm never bored around here. Always training. Always preparing. To think you manage to do that and not constantly try stabbing one another in the back." Sith always like to think that was part of training too -- having eyes in the back of your head. To an extent, sure, but sometimes it was just a waste of time. Especially when some no-talent hack tried their hand at it, and you had to stop what you were doing to plant them six feet under.

Backstabbing was what had gotten Zlova where she was today. Betrayed by the one person she'd trusted. Not an unheard of tale among Sith. What was uncommon was her surviving the attempt -- though they had thought she'd perished when the tower collapsed.

"You have a lot to learn about me, Valerian. Don't let this sexy body fool you, I hold my liquor." He was going to buy? Why would she refuse? Jedi were humble, meek, and selfless. Zlova was a Sith. Someone gave her a gift they could be damn well certain it'd be accepted. Now, in some cases, the gift would then be forgotten or torn up before the eyes of the giver because gift-giving with Sith was as much Art as-- no, it was all Art, really, blood spatters on the wall.

It'd only take a few minutes to walk through the community to the moderately sized drinking hole. A number of patrons sat at tables and a few at the bar. Wood provided a little more atmosphere than the standard durasteel or duracrete constructions you found most cantinas and bars. Something to do with the ambiance of the frontier or whatever. Eh, Wild Spacers were just nuts.

"Hard stuff, right? The kind that burns its way down and makes you question life decisions." What kind of drink did the man enjoy anyway? "Always best with company." Companions slowed the rate at which you tossed them back giving them time to marinate in your body. Otherwise a person might just slam them back one after another and turn into a puddle on the floor. Where was the fun in that? Steadily getting more outrageous was best. "Tihaar! The good stuff," Zlova cried for the bartender's ear. The good stuff being properly distilled Tihaar; not just any Tihaar that might be acceptable for young fighters that might lose their damn minds when drunk.

Valerian Calore

 

[Valerian Calore]

"Stabbing others in the back has never held much gain for me. I've always handled by problems directly, with as much finesse as is required when dealing with the greater galaxy; you probably know that it's little to none most of the time." Life was easy for him in that way. Valerian had never been treacherous or conniving, but rather blunt and to the point, and really only lied during combat, where life and death hung together with victory and defeat.

Valerian said nothing as Zlova referenced her body, but did allow himself the chance to stare for a few seconds before speaking. "You didn't have to tell me that you've got secrets, any woman with Sith tattoos and more traumatic experiences than a man in a Hutt whorehouse is bound to have secrets aplenty." He chuckled lightly, giving the woman a nudge with his elbow as they walked. "I'm sure you can hold your liquor just fine, but what I mean is, I'm not going to be the one buying your liquor everytime we go out, with looks and figure such as yours, you'll be more than able to charm some fool into wasting his credits on you."

Truly, more men than most would fall victim to her charms, sith tattoos or not, there was always something about a half-naked woman with tattoos covering her body that seemed to make men go weak in the knees. Go figure.

It wasn't long before they made it into town, and Zlova led the pair into a decently sized bar with a good amount of patrons spread across the space. "Whatever gets me drunk the fastest, and makes me regret drinking in the morning." Drinking wasn't fun, however being drunk, was one of the many things in life that made Valerian as happy as a Sith in a hen-house. When Zlova called for the bartender to bring what she called "the good stuff" Valerian reached into his pocket and brought forth a fistful of credits, passing them to the bartender as he walked by. "Leave the bottle, eh?" The bartender nodded, and when he departed he placed to cups in front of the pair and left them to their devices.

Valerian poured drinks for the two of them, placed the bottle inbetween them as he looked at the Sith woman. "To us I suppose."

Zlova Rue

 

[Zlova Rue]

"I've got enough secrets I'd have to blow up Kestri if certain ones got out." Zlova winked at Valerian. That was kind of the point of a secret; and there was knowledge best not set free in the wider galaxy. People once gnashed teeth about the Gulag plague and Blackwing... there was worse out there.

So, naturally, there was probably some Sith Alchemist, like herself, threatening to unwittingly unleash it on the galaxy. No risk, no reward! There were reasons Zlova laughed at the 'Modern' Sith; they totally only cared about whether they could, not whether they should.

"Ha. I don't waste my looks getting free drinks unless I'm trying to infiltrate someone's gang. Like stealing Relics from the Jedi." It wasn't beneath her to do so. "Charming people is too much work. They start thinking you owe them something, then they get loud, and then they end up in a bacta tank. I know what I said earlier, but I didn't come here to make enemies. I just don't care if someone claims to be one." The poor wretch that came looking for trouble.

As the bartender acknowledged the order, the Twi'lek gave Valerian a smirk at him wanting to get wasted. Sounded like a party.

Zlova reached out for her cup and looked up at Valerian with her golden eyes. "To us. You only live once." She made a point of clearly and strongly declaring her toast.

After the first drink shared, she looked across at the man. "Might surprise you to learn I have a few rules in life. Be confident in every choice, and only look backwards so you know how not to kark it up in the future." Well it was a bit more involved than that, but was this a lecture hall or a fraggin' bar? "You could toast the end of the world and I'd join in."

"Speaking of, what is it you want to do before the end of the world anyway?" Just what sort of man was Valerian? Not that she expected him to admit the truth, of course.

Valerian Calore