ʜᴄ sᴠɴᴛ ᴅʀᴀᴄᴏɴᴇs
The Sith Academy || Bastion
First, in the dusk hours of the fortress world of the Sith, quiet in the halls. Then, a noise. A soft footstep and the rapport of metal against a tiled floor, then a heavy footstep. It repeats, a drumming, on-and-off rhythm. His loose, dark robes whisper against the stone, long sleeves pulled over his forearms - the garb of a humble acolyte. The curious sound is the cane he leaned on, a polished piece of hooked metal. Needless to say,this is a rare sight in the Sith Academy for even the most elderly overlord, much less a soft-faced youth with a resting pout who needs to brush his hair out of his eyes. A cane is an outward sign of weakness. An invitation for someone to act on your limited mobility. Better to cut the limb off and take a cybernetic than risk your hobbling buy you a one-way ticket to Chaos' cold embrace.
The boy didn't seem to care. He only moved along, slow, steady. It was nearly curfew, so he had to get moved into the Academy quickly - even though in the Academy, curfew only meant that you had a chance to test your stealth skills. He had packed light, acolytes were permitted few possessions in the austere stage of training, where deprivation was the whetstone of choice to sharpen the Acolytes' blades.
He came to the door of room 22C without incident. In this in-between time, most Acolytes had either turned in or hidden themselves in preparation for the bell. If there was a time to pass somewhere without interruption, this was it. The youth raised his cane up and rapped it on the door twice.
Time to meet his bunkmate.
"...Hello?"
[member="Sera Sadow"]
