Coming Clean

[Scherezade deWinter]

[member="Cardinal Vi'dreya"] | [member="Srina Talon"] | [member="Darth Metus"]​

Scherezade's heart was racing at a million lightyears a second. It almost felt as though it could break into hyperspace. Today marked what she hoped to be the last of the big changes. Today was the day she… Or rather, Pathfinder Madalena Antares, had scheduled meeting with the Vicelord and one of the Exarchs. For months now she had paraded around, pretending to be Madalena, while the real Madalena was first in the space between dimensions and then learning how to control her own new body. A body that had been built using Confederate resources, though that had been kept under the table and unknown to all but one.

Madalena had wanted to come with her, and she and Scherezade had fought for days before Scherezade at last won. It was enough that Cardinal would be there. If they wanted to question Madalena over anything, they could schedule with her on their own.

And here she was now, with a small bag that held two packs. Soon enough, the hour would come, and she would have to do more than just sit nervously on a chair in the hallway. Was this how unruly children felt when they were sent to the principal's office? Scherezade had no clue; she'd never actually attended school, had never had adults to count on or disappoint in her life.

She'd let Cardinal know when the appointed time was, but she had also showed up early. Incredibly early.

Cardinal had promised she would not be imprisoned for what she'd done. He'd offered to cover it up, write it off as a Knight Obsidian closed matter. Yet how closed would that be? People had seen Madalena walk around as her, and now they would just accept and agree that she was Scherezade, either again if they'd known her before, or just randomly if they did not? And what would happen if the attempt to put the actual Madalena back in the files somehow didn't work right? Or putting Scherezade back, albeit with somewhat different data?

No. The only way to properly bury it was to come clean about it. Anything else was simply delaying the inevitable.

There was also the option of just… Packing and leaving Confederate space. But she didn't want that. If she couldn't find a way to make it here, what claim did she have to being able to go home some day? There was simply no other choice.

Sighing, Scherezade closed her eyes, willing to quiet the racing of her heart.

 

[Malok]

Location: The Citadel, Golbah City​

Tag: [member="Scherezade deWinter"], [member="Srina Talon"], [member="Cardinal Vi'dreya"]​

Theme: Divine Dragon​

Normalcy.

For many months now, it felt as though the world had been flipped onto its head. Battles raged outside the borders of their Confederacy, tugging them away from the peace they had come to love. Mornings were no longer spent sharing mugs of tea in the garden, or sparring through various Echani stances. But rather, pouring over Intel and forming battle plans for the "worst case scenarios." From Copero to Kuat, the Vicelord and his favored apprentice had seen the tempo of their relationship disrupted. And yet, despite their time together having been very short each day, the river which ran betwixt them was strong. Mightier than ever. With but a thought, the Sith could ascertain the well-being of his Apprentice. He could quell some of the stress which dominated her mind. He could offer power when there was none to be found.

And in return, more often than not, [member="Srina Talon"] stifled his wrath.

In the wake of Kuat, there had been an attempt to return to normal. The battles had been fought. The dead, buried. And now there was nothing to keep them from resuming that way of life they so enjoyed. Except...the two people which now stood within the Vicelord's office were not the same. The battles had changed them fundamentally - scarred them in ways that the average eye could not see. For the alabaster woman, Kuat had been the straw which broke the camel's back. She wad already exhausted. Her state of being was as glass after Eshan - for who could emerge from liberating their homeworld from that unscathed. Yet even before, Srina was rattled. Her evenings were often dominioned by memories of Coruscant...of ash caking her lungs. The battles of recent history had been what saw the glass finally crack.

And what filled the shattered remains was Darkness.

As the midnight presence flowed through her veins, so too did the shackles binding her Master begin to fall. For so long he had held back. For too long, he had attempted to stifle who and what he was for her sake. He feared that the corruption he offered would be too much - and that precious, lost soul he plucked from Coruscant would be no more. Yet, as Srina...no...as Darth Omnia evolved, so too did the Sith Lord. Ambition roiled hot through his veins for the first time in years. What he had seen following Kuat - what he had felt after his brush with Death - was enough to inspire his path to resume. Now, most recently, their mornings were spent just a touch differently. Though tea yet flowed, it was the teachings of the Dark Side which colored their conversations. And, though sparring occurred, the Ferocity of their battles shook Sinner's Well to the core.

They were pushing one another further into the midnight embrace. One mighty step at a time.

In the here and now, the dark beings of the present resumed their duties as Vicelord and Exarch. This day, a number of meetings had been scheduled - from Viceroys seeking support on the campaign trail to manufacturers attempting to pitch their wares for sponsorship. The battles had seen this particularly "thrilling" portion of the job laid by the wayside, and thus they simply could not ignore the "small" things any further. Interestingly enough, just before the hour they had set aside to break for lunch, they had a meeting scheduled with [member="Scherezade deWinter"] and [member="Cardinal Vi'dreya"]. Though, Scherezade had scheduled it under the name Madalena Antares for some reason. The Sith only recognized the alias of hid once-attempted murderer in light of their brief operation on Tatooine. And frankly, had not given it any thought that there had been something deeper going on.

Nonetheless, as the hour came, the receptionist would kindly advise the Pathfinder that the Vicelord would see her now. Upon entering the office space, she would find the sable-skinned man with pen in hand, scrawling away upon a piece of paper. Srina would be standing at his side, as always. The Sith would not look up from his work until it was done; and thus several seconds of silent work would continue until the pen ceased on the bottom most line. Satifised (or as satisfied as he could be with a veto), the Vicelord set the pen aside and leaned back in his seat. He motioned with his dominant hand for the Pathfinder to begin, simply stating: "Yes?"

 

[Srina Talon]

Golbah City [The Citadel]

Half her face remained hidden. A painted porcelain mask kept the rest of the Confederacy from seeing the mass of mottled flesh that had not yet healed from the insanity of Kuat. Ivory locks were twisted and braided to the point where they became heart shaped buns that sat neatly on either side of her head. Twin tendrils of silken hair twirled down in the front, framing delicate features, in such a way that seemed entirely effortless. Her expression would seem the same as it always did. Cold. Quiet. Unfeeling, to a point, where there was an unintended edge.

Even her attire seemed different. Out of place. When Srina had mourned for Eshan she had word shades of white and gray. Now? Black. What did she mourn now? The simple shift clung to her every curve as if she had been poured into it, yet, it was the metallic spine that ran up her back that would draw attention. It was a statement, bold, and seemed to emulate the spine of her dragons.

Her eyes were golden. Another dichotomy. Typically, they were silver, like that which lay beyond a mirror. They had remained in the same fierce state ever since she had awoken from being crushed. Between a variety of losses, her wrath was evident. Sometimes, they always seemed to retain their mercurial essence, but something touched her ire, and they lit right back up. Gold, gold, and more gold.

“We have a full schedule. Did Cardinal say what this meeting was regarding?”

Her words were cool, clinical, and adequately distant. She sat on the edge of the desk, perched like a bird of prey, and tawny orbs lingered over their itinerary. For a moment the Confederacy had been without their Vicelord. It wasn’t long enough to call a full vote, however, it had been long enough to make the rest of the Ministry grumble. It was a strange thing. Most of the Ministers…They didn’t seem to want the power that came with leading their nation of Droids and madness. They liked being smaller fish in a large pond.

Perhaps, the burden shook them. A darkness within her rose. It was violent, enough, that the desk rocked beneath her touch for a moment. “You also need to hold a forum so that your constituents can see that you are indeed alive and well. They question the validity of your return. The people require stability, that unfortunately, few others can provide. Make time for it, Master.”

When the doors opened the darklit Echani pulled her gaze up from the desk and moved her hand through the air to clear away any of the classified holo-docs she’d been perusing. Any of the items on the list involved those who needed to know. Their next meeting, regrettably, did not meet that threshold.

Srina Talon was changed. She was not the woman that anyone would remember, even from Eshan, and her bright golden gaze left little room for question. Her lightsaber that had long since remained white, clear, and pure as dawn had broken. Now the blade ran crimson, bloody red, from a crystal that her being had managed to crack and corrupt.

Nothing was the same. Nothing was as it used to be.

With that in mind, why should this meeting, slated as critical—Be any different?

[member="Darth Metus"] | [member="Scherezade deWinter"] | [member="Cardinal Vi'dreya"]

 

[ToKola Bakari]

There was nothing in Cardinal's mind that could fathom just why Scherezade wished to reach to the top of the Confederate government for her confession. It had to be the single dumbest decision the woman had made since Cardinal had met her, still he was there. There to stand with her while she pled her case to less understanding ears. He knew the Exarch's and the Vicelord well enough. His brother would be content not to be bothered with things of such a manner, but once they were brought to his attention there was little that could be done. He swore to bring justice and law to the lawless and Scherezade had shattered his law, for that there would be a price to pay. But what price?

The Dominus Prime of the Knight's Obsidian was clad in the armor of his station, finally repaired from their assault on Eshan. However the faintly lit hexagonal pattern could not be seen as a thick leather cloak covered his uniform. The cloak was a deep shade of brown, nearly black, with a single golden stripe falling down his back. His hood was drawn up, yet as he moved into the lobby to the Vicelord's office he lowered it. Sunburnt eyes gazed over Scherezade deWinter and he exhaled softly. It was nearly time for the woman's confession, there was no longer time to change her mind. When the receptionist came to receive them, Cardinal nodded his head towards the woman, indicating for her to follow the receptionist into the room.

The door was opened for the two and Cardinal followed in, silently.

When his eyes rose to meet that of his brothers, he would nod at the man solemnly. It was not often he would not greet Isley with a warm smile and even a brotherly embrace. Not today. Today Cardinal could not come before the Vicelord as his brother. Today he was merely his soldier, and with him he brought nothing worth a smile. When Scherezade stepped forward, Cardinal would say nothing as it was not yet his time to speak.

[member="Srina Talon"] [member="Darth Metus"] [member="Scherezade deWinter"]

 

[Scherezade deWinter]

It was too late to change her mind, though everything within her wanted to just turn around and leave. Perhaps Cardinal had been right and this was indeed a dumb idea. A moment ago she had been in the hallway, trying to calm her heart, and now she was inside the office, the Vicelord and his Exarch standing there, looking at her. She wanted to find comfort in the fact that Cardinal was standing there right behind her, but she couldn't.

"Hi," she said, her throat feeling drier than it ever had. Coming clean. That was why she was here. But then why did it feel like the meeting would in end in nothing but? Would they even care? A terrifyingly small amount of people had ever bothered to care. To others, she ranged between not mattering and being an object of mockery. But this… From here she could step out being none of the three, but merely the next person to be tossed into the pit.

But she couldn't stretch it out. She couldn't postpone it. It had been months now that she'd been back as herself, pretending to be Madalena. And now she had to take the final step in fixing things.

"So…" she tried to find her words. She had entire speeches prepared for this, but now she couldn't remember a single one of them. Scherezade shook her head, collecting her breath and her nerves. "About nine months ago, the Confederate database was hacked. Several files were affected by this, one major one and then all that referenced it."

She bit her lower lip for a moment. That was probably the worst way to go about it. But the words were out. There wasn't much she could do to change them, no rewinding. All she could do was plow through.

"That major file was the one that was called Scherezade deWinter. It disappeared entirely, and along it mentioned of her involvement with the Confederacy. Instead, there was a new file that replaced it, one by the name of Madalena Antares, who had a completely different background, and had joined the Knights Obsidian a day after it was done.

I know this… Because I did this. I found the slicer who would do this for me, and I paid them well."

Removing the package from her belt, Scherezade set it on the edge of the desk, and opened it. A single finger was in there, seemingly fresh though that was mostly because Scherezade had figured out a way to preserve it.

"The slicer in question is dead. You can use whatever Force abilities you or those who work for you have to check. The finger is theirs. Before they died they vowed that they had never sliced into the Confederate database for any other reason, and their words tasted true. They were a great slicer, but a really chitty liar."

Scherezade swallowed. So that was the first part. Then came the second part. She removed a small chip from her pocket and placed it next to the finger.

"This is the chip that puts most of the information back in place, as well as add some new one. Madalena Antares is a real person now, and she has her own body and everything. When she first showed up in the Confederacy, she was supposed to be a bunch of falsified memories that I created while I did away with my own existence. But things didn't quite work that way. So that chip… Fixed it. Most of it, anyway, at least as far as the data files are concerned."

[member="Cardinal Vi'dreya"] [member="Srina Talon"] [member="Darth Metus"]

 

[Malok]

Location: The Citadel, Golbah City​

Tag: [member="Scherezade deWinter"], [member="Cardinal Vi'dreya"], [member="Srina Talon"]​

To stand before her...

When the Sith was but a young Mandalorian, his people valued and treasured their hours of celebration. Mighty arbors would fall to their axes, only to be ignited as mighty bonfires across Mandalore. Here, the most succulent of kills would be roasted to perfection. And as a result, the finest aromas in all creation could he witnessed for miles. Darth Metus could fondly recall how he would gravitate towards the bonfires during his youth. How he would close his eyes and salivate as the cacophony of spices broiling before the flames. Such was it like to stand before Darth Omnia. Though there was a nugget of concern...a modicum of regret that the silvery woman had finally fallen, Darth Metus reveled in the animosity that was her being. With every instant, the Dark Side roiled within her. Unchecked. Untamed. She was a hurricane, so much so that even his desk shuddered by proximity.

Causing his pen to briefly slide off course.

He corrected the movement immediately. Yet, through the ocean of memory and emotion that ran betwixt them, the Sith stood before her mind's eye. He spoke not a word, yet afforded unto her the same which she had provided for him so long. Balance. Control. Her wrath was boundless, as was the might at her disposal. Yet the true mark of a Sith was mastering the Darkness within. He knew she would rise to this challenge - for there was nothing his Omnia could not accomplish. Yet, for just this moment, Darth Metus would simply do the equivalent of touching his brow to hers. Urging control. So much had changed since Kuat and Eshan, but here there was no difference. Here, in the midst of their Bond, they were still Home.

Shortly thereafter, [member="Cardinal Vi'dreya"] entered and stood in silence. Ever the soldier, the Dominus Prime did not speak unless spoken to. And his elder brother uttered no words whilst he busied himself finishing the document underneath his pen. Even when the woman of the hour arrived, the Sith was unmoving. The scrawl of his pen was the only sound permitted to exist, until he addressed Scherezade with a simple yes? And when she spoke...the Sith was glad he had attempted to calm the fury of his favored apprentice. For she would, undoubtedly, need to do the same for her Master. His expression remained neutral, yet his fingers steepled together as the woman explained herself. Explained the circumstances that had led to this Sin.

And once the chips were in place upon his desk, the Vicelord spoke. "The worlds which make up this nation have entrusted me with many powers. To command. To bargain. To even forgive." he began. "From the most petty of offenses, to the most grievous of treasons, on a whim I can wipe clean the slate. And, as gratitude for the mercy afforded to them...the Pardoned tend not to transgress again. At least, not that I've heard of."

"And so it was that my niece plead for that same mercy on your part. Begged that her beloved Pebble be forgiven plunging a knife into my back. You were given that mercy. But then, as opposed to all others who live their lives well following my grace...you decide to transgress again. But not something petty or small. You commit high treason against the Confederacy by breaching our networks?"

There was no telling just how much damage had been done. If she could hire someone off the street to slice their encryptions, then there was no telling how many other attacks could be occurring right underneath their noses. Darth Metus made a mental note to address this potential calamity immediately. For the moment, he had nothing more to say to [member="Scherezade deWinter"], but rather placed his gaze upon the Dominus Prime. "You will not see mercy a second time. Dominus Prime, execute this woman. Now."

Coming Clean would see Justice done.

 

[ToKola Bakari]

Cardinal had remained silent as Scherezade spoke. As she confessed, there was a moment where Cardinal briefly shut his eyes as a feeling of agitation washed over him. This was a bad idea. No, this was a horrid idea. Even Madalena had attempted to tell Scherezade of this folly, but the woman would not listen. So this path would be walked. A part of Cardinal respected Scherezade for what she was doing. While it was not the wise thing to do, it was certainly the most honorable and the gods would recognize that as they allowed this particular path to be woven into reality.

A part of the man hoped his brother would dismiss this injustice as paltry. It would not be so. He had been his brother's hand for years, and dealt Justice out personally. Justice would be had in this world and that of The Force, it was the duty of the Dominus Prime and Vicelord alike. Cardinal realized that by the end of this day, Scerezade could be imprisoned for her actions. Perhaps Cardinal could have the sentence commuted or arrange for her to serve some type of service instead, but he would not know until the punishment was dealt. As Isley spoke, Cardinal's expression shifted ever so subtly. He had seen this before. The cold judgement of his Vicelord when mercy would not be allowed.

This was a mistake.

Cardinal glanced around for a moment. How had it come to this? Why had he allowed Scherezade to come here? This was a mistake. He said nothing, but his eyes flashed from is brother to Scherezade as the Vicelord spoke. What could he do if he demanded life imprisonment? He could only do so much to protect her, how can he protect her now?

His breathing was deliberate now as he tried to calm himself. Isley spoke and as Cardinal anticipated he promised there would be no mercy. Cardinal's sunburnt eyes were fixed.

Dominus Prime, execute this woman. Now.

Everything stopped. It felt as if time itself had stopped, ended. Yet it had not, it continued to move along and the longer it moved with Cardinal in a moment of hesitation the more it was noticed. Cardinal looked to his brother, his eyes were so unreadable in this moment. His command, however, was crystal. Cardinal glanced around the room once again, not sure what to do or say. Why was this happening? He could not kill Scherezade, not after all she had done to bring Madalena back from the place between dimensions, not after he had given his word to protect her. But what could he do? It took so much of his will not to plant his spear in the back of the woman's neck. Duty had been his life and to follow his brother's command had been his only want for so long. But now...He felt so lost. That chilling pain in his chest was so noticeable in this moment and at the same time so paltry when weighed next to Scherezade's life.

Finally, after what felt like minutes, but had truly been only a few shallow seconds the man took a step forward. He placed a hand on Scherezade's shoulder before pulling her back from his brother. Cardinal placed himself between Scherezade and Isley, saying nothing for the longest time before finally he spoke.

"I am sorry." He spoke with sincerity, yet his tone was unwavering. "I will not take her life and I will not allow you to take her life, brother." Cardinal had never had to speak to Isley in such a way before. Perhaps, for the first time in hundreds of years, he was afraid of what was to come. "If blood would be spilled for her crimes, then let it be my blood." Cardinal's hand wrapped around the short spear that had been fastened to his waist. He pulled it from where it laid and pressed the tip of the blade to the center of his chest. "I swore to protect her and I will do this, on my honor as a warrior. But if justice must be served, then it is I who will pay the price. Command me, Vicelord, and I will end my life in exchange for hers."

[member="Scherezade deWinter"] [member="Darth Metus"] [member="Srina Talon"]

 

[Srina Talon]

Golbah City [The Citadel]

“Yes, Master.”, Srina responded softly, though her voice held a twinge of something almost devilish buried beneath all the ice and snow. She could feel [member="Darth Metus"] trying to provide some sort of balance for her recent fall from grace, yet, she did not wish for it. She was all fury. All hate. Everything that had made her who she was, prior to Eshan, was hidden in corruption.

While she knew that the Confederacy was fallible, as all nations were, she felt far more secure with the Dark Side scrambling to her beck and call. Still. Her Master was right. There was a time and a place to unleash what she had held bound for so long. Geonosis, the Citadel, was not it. This was their home. This was what they found to protect without a single thought to the cost of their own lives. This nation, these people, were what they would kill for. Die for.

And so, her rage quelled, and the alabaster apprentice reached out to touch her Master’s shoulder briefly. The gold of her eyes faded to a familiar silver as the small amount of contact let her remember. It gave guidance, in such a way, where it felt like she was learning to walk all over again. The Force had always been a tool for her to utilize as she saw fit, when she saw fit, and how she saw fit. Never had she felt so close to the brink of becoming a storm. Unyielding, destructive, and an unstoppable force of nature.

For her Master, for [member="Darth Metus"], she shelved it. For now.

Whereas Srina might have risen to greet both [member="Cardinal Vi'dreya"] and [member="Scherezade deWinter"] she remained perched on the edge of the desk. Mercurial eyes pinned on the auburn-haired female with the intensity of a bird of prey. The words that flowed, were in not for the calmness of her Master, could have easily drawn her wrath. Scherezade had lied. Many times. She had broken into their systems, risked them all, for the sake of what? To what end?

Her Master spoke. Srina listened. They all, listened.

Dominus Prime, execute this woman. Now.​

Srina Talon fully expected to see her head roll. Cardinal was more than capable of it. She had seen him fight, more than once, and actually looked forward to seeing his reflexes in action. Sadly, she was to be disappointed. The Dominus of the Knights Obsidian spoke for this woman? Would take the punishment in her place?

Silver eyes flickered.

“Disappointing.”

The word covered every aspect of this discussion. From the admission of Scherezade to the refusal of Cardindal to perform his duty. Disappointing.

The ivory-haired beauty slid from the desk with deadly precision. She moved as no being had a right to, gliding fluidly, over walking step-by-step. Her first stop was to the Dominus Prime. The Echani formed a fist and a spear of midnight black elongated slowly from her grasp. It was one of the first abilities that she had channeled on her own, without, the influence of her Master. “Failure to meet the duties of your station so blatantly should result in your immediate expulsion.”

She moved, faster than the eye could follow, and the Sith aimed the spear at the exposed neck of the Vi’dreya, though she paused just before it touched his skin. Her head tilted, waiting for him to move, though she doubted he would. Honor bound. If the Vicelord wished it—He would gladly die to honor his promise. It was too bad he didn’t have the same loyalty for his brother.

“So, will it be. With the will of my Master—You are Dominus Prime no longer. You knew of this treachery and didn’t report it immediately. You are just as culpable in placing our nation at risk and that will not be tolerated from those we deem worthy to guide the rest of the flock. You are also on probation with the Knights Obsidian until a full investigation can be completed. If you fail to perform commendably, during this period, we will return to the previous arrangement. You will die.”

Emotionless, without so much as raising her voice once, she pulled away from the now Former-Dominus and rounded on one very unhinged young woman. The spear she held shifted in her hand. Did she, somehow, think that coming clean would make everything all right? That there wouldn’t be any repercussions for being deceitful to an entire government? To multiple governments?

“Why?”

Her next answer would decide whether or not Srina jammed the spear through her chest once and for all. Srina had assumed, all this time, that Scherezade had sustained some sort of grievous injury. How wrong she had been. The Minister of Commerce had noted the inconsistencies that she had observed, but still, the picture was far from clear. “What could possibly necessitate this?”

What could make her sacrifice all that Katrine had done to keep her safe? What could cause her to access their most secure servers with a slicer? What could cause her to commit treason when she had already been forgiven for stabbing the Vicelord in the chest?

“Did someone coerce you? Were you paid? The finger of a dead man doesn’t speak. We need all of the details from the beginning, so we know for certain what we need to look into, and what damage you have actually done. Not what you suspect to have occurred. ”

This tactic was one of the rules that she had been taught within the Eshan military. It was number four.

Don’t believe what you’re told. Double check.

[member="Cardinal Vi'dreya"] | [member="Darth Metus"] | [member="Scherezade deWinter"]

 

[Scherezade deWinter]

It was probably a mere few seconds before the Vicelord spoke. A few seconds that etched into an eternity in which all Scherezade could hear was the beating of her heart, loud in her ears, threatening to obscure her vision as she sat there in complete and utter silent panic. The words had come out of her mouth, the truth had escaped her lips by her permission, and there was nothing she could do now to take it back, to take any of it back.

As the Vicelord spoke she remained silent, knowing better than to try to interrupt him. He mentioned forgiveness and for the span of a moment she felt herself calm down. This was not the horrible potential outcome she had been warned about. If he spoke of pardoning and forgiveness, then hope still remained. But no. He spoke of them in reference to the time she had stabbed him, an event that had been blamed on rabid Spirits that had been present that day, even though they had never even whispered the smallest thing to Scherezade that day.

And when he mentioned his niece… So many things had happened since then. But whereas Scherezade's love had remained strong for some people, her emotions for the woman who once was her adoptive sister had turned into nothing but hatred, and the mere reference to her, even without the name, caused her blood to boil. Being called Pebble caused her blood to boil. The Sithling inhaled sharply, her knuckles becoming white as her fingers folded into fists.

High treason. No. No! That was now how it was supposed to go! She had just old him what had happened, she had not messed with anything save her name and her personal information. The action was bad, sure, but from there to high treason was such a wide depth, a canyon, how could he even compare? And how dared he be so about it when her lie walked and danced in front of the entire Confederacy without once anyone thinking to look into it? Many people who had known her as Scherezade had met her as Madalena. It had gone on for nearly a year and no one had done anything. Had she not come forward, she knew, no one would have done anything either.

Dominus Prime, execute this woman. Now.

Scherezade's breath caught in her throat. Execution? Her mind went blank. Under the worst of circumstances she could usually vomit hours' worth of monologues for her peace, yet not her mouth was dry. Was this truly the end? She froze in her place, unable to turn, unable to look around, unable to even demand that Cardinal would look her in the eyes as he followed the orders his own brother had given him. She had never dared imagine she would go out that way. That was not the death she was meant for. She was a Warrior, her job in life was to fight until she was slain in the field of battle, not… Not be murdered in the office of some highity-upper who thought himself above others simply due to the privileges life had bestowed on him in ways they had not for others.

She could feel it. She could feel the phantom blade of the Dominus Prime coming for her neck, coming to decapitate her. It would have been the sort of execution that Cardinal would have seen as honorable, quick and as painless as he would be able to follow the order he had been given. Scherezade wanted to close her eyes. To wait for it not be a phantom feel, but to wait for the moment the cold metal would slice through her. But she could not. The glow of her eyes remained focused on the Vicelord. If she were to die, she would die staring right at him, knowing he was making the worst o mistakes, knowing that he would never even spare the moment to consider that it was as such. She would die as she had lived; unimportant, of no consequence, and without a care from others.

The moment never came.

Her eyes might not have been closed, but they opened with surprise as Cardinal refused. What? If blood would be spilled for her crimes, then let it be my blood. Now she turned around, looking at the man. Certainly, they had grown somewhat close over the months spent on bringing Madalena back to life. They had trusted each other when there was no one else they could trust with that. There had been… Respect, between the two. And still she had not expected, never thought for the briefest of moments that he would ever defy his brother for her. Why? Her lips moved in murmur, but what she wanted to do was scream no and stand in front of him, come between him and Darth Metus. Because… Because over the events of the last months, Cardinal had become one of the few that Scherezade wanted to protect. It didn't matter that he outranked her. He had helped her settle, he had helped her with his sister, her sister loved him, her true sister. He had been as much of a part as bringing her into this reality as Scherezade had been and she would love him until she died for it. And with that love came her protection. Cardinal Vi'dreya would not give his blood that day. She refused.

But whereas she'd expected Darth Metus to do or say something, it was the little one that answered instead. Disappointing. Scherezade looked to her with glare in her eyes. The two had never been on actual friendly terms. Srina Talon had once invited her to lunch, a lunch that had included so much posturing and speaking as if she were above her. And while it was true that within the hierarchy of the Confederacy she was, Scherezade had never seen a sign of it from the person, as a person. What purpose did the little Echani serve? She could not come up with an answer, could not think of anything, for she had never in memory even seen the woman actually do more than launch a Darkside spear. The very same spear that was now forming in her hands.

Scherezade might have been in her civilian clothing, but her fingers were still decked with the rings she usually wore. The Forgemaster's Ring was but one of them, and she readied it, ready to call upon the blades and show the Exarch what it was truly like to become a pin cushion. She had told her once, that her loyalty did not lay with the Confederacy. And the Exarch had responded the same. If these two people would in temporary stupidity remove the man who had served them for so long merely for his unwillingness to execute someone who was not even an immediate threat – she would kill them both, or die trying. Cardinal, she would protect with her last breath. The others, she would not. Yet she knew she could not move before his skin was pierced; knew she would have to let this play out at least somewhat. She would accept an injured Cardinal, if only to make sure that was truly their intent.

And the Exarch did not pierce his skin with her spear. Did she know, Scherezade wondered, just how close she had come, how a single fraction of a breath would be enough to turn her into a corpse?

And then the questions turned to her.

These last moments had done their job though. Perhaps the Vicelord and his Exarch had wanted to make themselves feel better. Had wanted to calm themselves down. Yet all this exchange, all that had happened, it had served Scherezade in other ways. In those seconds, she had exhausted her capacity to be scared, to be terrified. How ironic, that now that the true danger loomed, she felt none of it.

"The result of many events coerced me," she said after a short silence, moving to stand between the Exarch and the now former Dominus Prime, "no one paid me. If you cannot check for the life of a person by a finger of their body, then you lack in training."

Yes. It was a smug little sentence to add. But Scherezade didn't care. If they wanted the full story, they would have the full story.

"I have served the Confederacy ever since I was brought out from the pebble. Without knowing what it was, without knowing what it stood for, I served. No one asked me anything. No one asked me, when two hours after existing as a non-baby, if I even wanted to be a Mandragora. If a choice there was, it had never been presented to me as such. Two hours of breathing, and I was marked by the Jart. I tried to train. It tried to learn. I tried to become better.

And nothing mattered. I was just tolerated here. My missions, if you remember, were always successful; I came out of battlefields injured, sometimes bleeding, sometimes close to death, but I always delivered. And yet this earned me nothing. No kind words. No praise. Not even acceptance or invitations. I was very much aware of the gazes, the laughter, the mocking, all of it, all the time.

And I worked hard. So hard. I took on every mission that I could, and then I took some more missions on the side because no one told me how I was meant to get my salary, a salary that had been that entire time collecting in an account I did not even know I had. I hunted on Ryloth, because I had no money for food. I stretched myself beyond any reasonable way and I kept going, and it kept not being enough for a touch of kindness by anyone besides the woman who claimed to be my adoptive sister, and the man I loved.

And then left alone by the man I loved on the Fortressa by my lover as I recovered in quarantine from the mission on Melida/Daan, I wanted to take a break. I needed a vacation. So I left for Coruscant, where I met a Jedi who killed me, even though he was with the Alliance, even though I was with the Confederacy, simply for my blood line and no other reason. He stabbed me through the heart with a lightsaber. That adoptive sister and the man I loved found me that way, with a message on the wall scribbled in my blood from the previous parts of that fight.

The Alliance is supposed to be the good in the galaxy but you have allied yourself with Sith by allying with the Confederacy. This dead one is only the beginning of your trouble for doing this. We shall not suffer those who believe peace is a lie to live, and nor should the Alliance. Deal with this, or I will.

Those were the words. I don't know if I died and was brought back, or whether I was merely very close to dying. I know the Nightmother and the man I loved found me, took care of me while I was in a coma for a week. And while it was a week here, I was cast into the Darkness, where I endured years of torture. Years. I survived those years because I focusedon the man I loved, because I had made a promise to him.

And when I opened my eyes from the coma, my soul was cracked and aching, and they told me, not five minutes within waking up from those years of torture that only lasted a week in real time, that while I was out, the Nightmother and the man I loved had bonded and were together. That they loved each other. That while I was fighting for my life, the Nightmother knew I was in love with him and yet had decided to go through with her choice regardless of my state, regardless of seeing any importance to letting me come out of that coma and telling me what was happening before she finalized her choice. And while it was the both of them, she was my sister, and she betrayed me. In my years of torture the Darkness told me that she had sold me to the spirit that had once possessed her; and while she had not literally done so, she had sold me indeed, tossed me away, rendered me as less than nothing.

And all this while she claimed to know nothing before that week, lied about it, for I was still Mandragora, and the Jart had more than once whispered to her things that I had seen and said without my consent or knowledge until a later time. The spirts are not benevolent. They are little spies that the Mandragora are marked with, to be used by the Nightmother as she sees fits, as fits her narrative.

When I left them I was not cracked, but broken. It was as the Darkness had said; I had two people when I entered it, and I had none when I left. I skinned myself that night to remove myself from the spirits, to no longer be part of the Mandragora, and for the next months I wondered the Confederacy drunk, and so entirely alone. And even in that state, I continued to serve the Confederacy, I continued to do missions. When my blades were out were the only time I knew some comfort, some solace of peace. I did every mission that was offered, and I still did side jobs for money, because I still did not know about my salary.

I was alive. I was drunk. I was doing my job. I was dying. And no one cared. An entire Confederacy full of people that saw me, that could see me, that still mocked me, that did not care.

So when I met the man again, he convinced me that there was no place for me. Not her, not anywhere else. I am barred from my home world and cannot go there. I was not accepted here, despite everything I had done. I was arrested in Coalition space without having done anything and saw no reason to report it because not even with the Alliance's Jedi had anything been done that I know of.

All I wanted was to be accepted. To be loved. And that was not to be. I never asked for power or position. All I asked was to be loved, and I could never be."

Scherezade paused, realizing now that as she had told her tale, her emotional turmoil had risen again. No longer was she as numb as she had been before she started. Her eyes felt wet, but she refused to let the tears slide out of them. Utterly refused. They did not deserve her vulnerability and she cursed herself for having given it in the first place. And despite all her words, it was still the condensed version. She had not mentioned her lack of family, the loss of her brother, the millions of little moments that had made it so clear to her that she was so entirely unwanted in the only place she had ever known.

"So I decided to kill myself," she said after recollecting herself, "and yet I could not bear the thought of it. Of being gone. Of being forgotten like that. So I cast a blood spell and created another person that would take my place. I would remove myself… And give the Confederacy something better instead. Someone who could be appreciated. Someone who could be accepted. Someone who was me, but not me.

And that was why I went into the files. It had to be complete. If I were to be gone, then I were to never have existed. Madalena, in my body, served that purpose without a single mistake, without a single burp. She walked among you and you all accepted her as she was, even those of you who had known me as Scherezade. Madalena… She was loved. She was appreciated. She was accepted. And all this while simply doing the things I'd done almost to a T. I killed myself because I had no place here, because I was alone. And I gave you back something better."

And that was the most painful part of it all. Because between Scherezade and Madalena, while Madalena was inside Scherezade, the differences were not great at all. Madalena had still gone on the missions, had still done what was expected of her. She simply had no build up of trauma. She entered a room with a smile and everybody loved her. Scherezade could never hope to attain such abilities, and she was more than aware of it. She breathed that knowledge every moment.

Should she go on? Should she resume and explain how she came back, who and what Madalena was, how she was put in a body of her own? For a moment, Scherezade considered it. And then she decided not to. The time to let the others respond was now. Now they could mock her, treat her like garbage again, do whatever the heck they wanted to. It was done. It was all done.

[member="Darth Metus"] [member="Srina Talon"] [member="Cardinal Vi'dreya"]​

 

[Srina Talon]

There was little question as to why this woman found herself in such dire straits. It took her less than a moment, less than a breath, to begin smug commentary when her very life was one the line. The events she described didn't even follow a rational train of thought. One moment, she stated she was killed on Coruscant, and the next, she wasn't sure if she had died or not. It was amazing how easily life and death became meaningless. How strange, that her own history, seemed to be a puzzle. It was almost excruciating to hear the less than subtle need for approval, that somehow, while they had a nation to lead—They were expected to infer and acknowledge?

If her activity on missions remained as prominent and as pleasing as she claimed, that, was job of the Dominus Prime to acknowledge. They did not do the work they did for accolades. The green-eyed youth seemed to have about a half dozen complexes all wrapped into something that she let fester on her own. Mostly, that someone, hadn't loved her enough. The Confederacy was a nation of billions. It was a gross exaggeration to say that she was openly mocked when Srina herself had seen none of it. It boggled her mind that she felt so unaccepted, when, Katrine had taken Scherezade in as her own without a second thought.

As the ward of the Nightmother—She had been blessed. Was their relationship so hollow, their maturities so underdeveloped, that one man managed to break them?

Regardless the inconsistencies, Srina let her speak. She had asked for detail, in favor of pulling it forcibly from her mind, but when the young woman seemed to become sentimental—She prayed for strength. She pulled on the balance that her Master silently offered and her expression remained empty. Unmoved, and pale, as fresh fallen snow. The Echani did not delve into the messy, revolting complexities, of the emotional state of others. She held favor with empirical data.

Thus far—She had been given none. Just a story that belonged on the pages of a romance novel.

"The fact that you choose to openly ignore the gravity of the situation, by your childish retort, is telling. You have cost a man whom is willing to risk his life for you every ounce of respect he has earned. I remember healing your wounds on Monastery without hesitation, even after, you nearly killed my family. I invited you to Geonosis after those events to try and guide you. I informed you of ships, weapons, and credits that you would have at your disposal…", Srina paused, briefly, while she tried to recount the correct details of the conversation. "With all that being said…"

"You threatened me then. You knew about your behavior, threatened to worsen it, and threatened my life should I ever betray the Nightmother. Yet—It was not I who needed a warning. It was not I who wiped my own memories, who sought to destroy myself, who forsake all in the wake of a broken heart."

The fact that Scherezade still, to this day, did not see what the real problem was completely threw her for a loop. Even after all she had been through, she was still the same, confused, and clouded little thing that had been born of a pebble. She had the body of a woman and the mind of a child. It was understandable when one realized that her actual lifespan barely exceeded that of a toddler.

If Srina were in any other mood, perhaps, she might have laughed when Scherezade came to stand between herself and Cardinal. It was a pointless gesture. His sentence had already been delivered, and that, was final. [member="Darth Metus"] breathed through her mind as easily as a summers breeze. Their decisions, often without discussing them verbally, were one and the same. Master and Apprentice—They emulated one another fully. "Cardinal is a Vi'dreya. He will accept his punishment because he knows the severity of your crime. He knows the depths of his."

"Anytime a secure system is breached, for any reason, it is left vulnerable. There are leaks. The potential for back doors, which may have been previously invisible, now stand out for anyone with significant prowess to potentially access. Analyzing the finger you have brought with you will tell me the life of your partner in crime but it won't detail the possible damages to national security. You weakened us by allowing a slicer to access our data. You placed the safety of countless planets, countless people, at risk. There is no reason acceptable for that."

Many people had noticed that Madalena was not Scherezade. Many people, worried. Wondered. It was almost as if she assumed that simply because it wasn't spoken of, that no one thought about it, or cared. Perhaps she did not have all of the memories of Madalena. Even [member="Darth Tacitus"] had been startled by it, and nothing, startled the Eternal Emperor.

Srina let the spear of midnight black dissipate. [member="Scherezade deWinter"] was a deeply, deeply, broken individual. It was becoming clear that she was unwell. With that in mind, she tried, to see things from her perspective. On a personal level, perhaps, she could understand. Srina had never liked emotional trouble in the first place. It was only recently that her penchant for vengeance seemed capable of rearing its ferocious head. "My Master's brother is willing to die for you…"

"Perhaps, there is an alternative to meet both of our requirements. It is not of the opinion of the Vicelord to waste, however, there must be consequences for your actions. You wish, or wished, for a place to belong. We require that you be held accountable."

"Until otherwise noted you will no longer work within the Knights Obsidian. Madalena, for all intents and purposes, is a victim. Her standing within the Knights will not be affected. You will be reassigned to a different project in an entry level capacity. Something new, fresh, without all of the difficulty that seems to have driven you to an act of treason. We have a new Ministry on the rise that could benefit from someone that managed to deceive dozens of people for months on end. For a period of six months you will also be on probation, with periodic reviews, handled by the Minister of Secrets. During this time, you will also participate in mandatory community service, and, you will meet with a counselor regularly within the Citadel."

Srina turned away from the pair then. It was an alternative. Not a compromise. None of these items were negotiable. Darth Metus, she could feel, would prefer to deal with the situation in a more immediate sense but the outer layers of his mind felt amenable to her solution. Cardinal didn't want to see the woman dead at all, thus, his sacrifice would not be in vain.

It was not perfect. Suddenly, they had a lot of cleaning up to do. And entire security protocols to overhaul.

[member="Cardinal Vi'dreya"] | [member="Darth Metus"] | [member="Scherezade deWinter"]

 

[Malok]

Location: Golbah City, Geonosis​

Tag: [member="Scherezade deWinter"] | [member="Cardinal Vi'dreya"] | [member="Srina Talon"]​

Standstill.

When damnation formed and fell from the Sith Lord's lips, the expectation was clear. The deranged woman before them would be given the same treatment as any stray which had the gumption to bite an officer. Without hesitation, she should have been put down there on the spot - and therefore, a threat to the Confederacy silenced evermore. Yet, as the seconds rolled by, Darth Metus found that there was no change to the room. The Sandali warrior did not utter his fabled warcry. The weapon within his grasp did not slicken with the blood of the threat to national security. Nothing. Happened. And that was when the balancing hand of the Master turned into the thunderous fist.

The alabaster woman at his side would be the first to feel the change in her Master. As the swiftness of a hurricane's gale gripped her, their bond would bleed with his fury. The man did an excellent job of preventing a bonafide snarl to claim his features. Rather, his fingers formed a tent before him as his gaze burned against his sibling. Wrath magnified within the sulfuric depths as Srina performed her duty. She was his Will - and therefore, she delved into the realities which caused the woman to behave in this manner. Deranged was clearly the right word for the situation. If empathy and understanding were remotely within the Sith's train of thought, he might have thought the imprisonment within the stone was the culprit.

For so long as a literal rock was bound to rattle the mind of all sense, was it not?

But in this moment, there was no empathy. There was no thought to the why her mind operated the way it did. Only the fact that action had been taken against the House that he had built. The security of his people, of his nation, of his creation had been threatened - and his order to correct that had not been followed. He spared only the minority of his attention to the punishment that Srina doled out to the deranged woman. A place within the freshly formed Ministry, where she could serve under supervision. It was not as ideal as an execution, but it would do. But. What would not do was simple demotion and probation. As Vicelord, Darth Metus would accept that which his Exarch decided as consequence for the knowledge of treason and direct insubordination.

Yet. As a brother? As kin? The punishment did not fit the crime.

"You have heard as the Exarch has spoken, so shall it be. You-" he began, addressing Scherezade, "will report as directed. Srina, see to her transit." The intent behind having his Apprentice depart was not one veiled in the slightest. Her darkness only served to fuel his own. His wrath only fed her darkness. The superconducting loop of negativity seethed between the pair - so much so that crimson lightning began to crackle between his fingers.

"Cardinal. Officially you have been served your consequence. But as my brother..." He shook his head and said not another word. When the women departed, there would be thunder. There would be Blood. Such was the Vi'dreya way.

Mayefla.

 

[Scherezade deWinter]

Threaten her life? Scherezade held herself in check from yelling at her that she had not threatened the Exarch's life. Her exact phrasing had been "you people". The woman in front of her was an Exarch, she knew the meaning of words because entire diplomatic states of existence relied on them. Perhaps that was why, despite the rest of the details within themselves being more or less accurate, the way in which she chose to present them made the entire thing seem different than it was. Yes, she had been invited, and told about ships, weapons, the salary… And nothing about how to get them.

"It was not you who needed a warning," she agreed quietly. It had been Scherezade who needed that. It had been Scherezade who had been willing to risk her very life to stand up against the entire might of the Confederacy on the event that they should betray the Nightmother. And then it had been the Nightmother who betrayed her, and Scherezade had remained stuck in the Confederacy. Ironic was a proper word to describe it all.

And to blame it all on simply a broken heart… They did not understand her. They did not understand her at all.

Allowing a slicer… Was the Exarch even aware that it was not a matter of allowing? There were plenty of slicers in the 'verse who tried to hack into the Confederate files. Scherezade had simply found one who actually could, and had paid them. And not just could, but had done so in a manner that had not been caught for nearly a year. She was going to be damned if he was the only one who'd managed to do that, either before or after it had actually happened.

But it didn't matter. The narrative had to be painted, it were to be painted. The only thing Scherezade could do was stand there in silence as the words continued to come out, and keep her mouth shut. Not mention that Cardinal had advised her to not come forward at all. Not mention that the other two people who knew the depth of the story had advised her the same.

And while she did not say it out loud, Cardinal was not the only one willing to die for her; she was willing to die for him. She had been willing to stand against the might of the Confederacy before, and she had been willing to stand in front of the might of the Silvers before as well, to protect a child. The only mercy she prayed silently was that she would not be betrayed as such once again, even if… Even if had happened a second time. But she had been accused of having no hope before. It was, in truth, an entire mess inside her head. And she wanted no one to have access to it.

And then came the sentence. No more Knights Obsidian. Sometimes inside Scherezade shattered at hearing that. In her months of masquerading around as her sister, she had come to truly love the division. There was a reason that went beyond duty to her sister that had kept her and ensured she would perform mission after mission with them. The role of the Pathfinder had fit her like a glove – that was why she'd sent Madalena there in the first place, when she thought they were one and the same with the only difference being the falsified memories.

Scherezade sighed. By the way the Exarch described the new place she would be in, her talents would indeed fit in there. New people, maybe. Perhaps… Perhaps it was better than staying with the Pathfinders. She could only hope. The rest of it though… Community service and forced counseling. It was only her self-control that kept her from visibly shuddering at the thought of it. She could already imagine what type of community service they'd have her do, and the counseling… She would attend. But she would not be letting anyone poke around in her head. Six months. A fourth of her life, by the time it was over. It seemed that number liked to chase her around.

And now came the orders. She was to leave the room with the Exarch and leave Cardinal there with the Vicelord. Scherezade froze in her place. Every sense she had screamed at her that she would be leaving him in danger that could cost him his life. And for what? For not executing someone whose death would not fix any damage that hadn't even been caused in the first place? They had blamed her for treason for a broken heart yet entirely missed that their treatment of Cardinal, now no longer even the Dominus Prime, was for nothing but to satisfy their ego. It didn't take a genius to figure it out. For ego, they could kill him.

"He is still needed," she said quickly, her mind running at a thousand lightyears a second, "as you have said, Madalena is the victim in all of this. He is her primary caretaker and the role he serves with her cannot be replaced by a servant, droid, or any other replacement. Madalena wants to return to the Knights Obsidian but she still needs more healing and care for that."

She had never begged any of the people in the room for anything. She had only begged one person in her entire life and it had smacked her right back in the face. But she owed Cardinal, and so she looked at the Vicelord, hoping he would understand the truth of her words.

"Please, do not kill him."

[member="Darth Metus"] [member="Srina Talon"] [member="Cardinal Vi'dreya"]