Crazy Bastard Wants to Hit Me

[Blackthorne]

"What was your purpose at this location, Melwas," the woman spoke as she sensed him catching up. Her stride slowed not at all as she headed back across an open expanse of desert scrubland that sat between the ruin and his ship. The corona of shadow lingering around her body had grown more dense and begun to trail wisps of Darkside energy. She stepped up the ramp and strode into the small area where Dahl had previous evacuated the contents of her stomach. There was no care to where she trod, but the remnants of the mess curdled, sizzled and dissipated at her burgeoning presence. Blackthorne abruptly shrugged the bag off her shoulders and deposited it on the floor, shoving it under a bench with a boot.

[member="Maleagant"]

 

[Darth Osano]

Uneasey, Maleagant's pace slowed considerably when the new [member="Blackthorne"] strode straight through a puddle of her own vomit. Rather than ruin her shoes, it evaporated. A fouler stench than before filled the air, causing the Shi'ido to scrunch his nose in disgust. That was, however, a neat trick. Maybe she would walk around the rest of the ship and get the rest of them while she was at it. "Archaeology," he replied, watching as she kicked her bag under the bench.

Maleagant had probably left his in the estate by accident, but he did not trust the possessed Blackthorne to wait long enough for him to go and get it.

 

[Blackthorne]

"Archeology," she repeated, "not ... treasure seeking."

Blackthorne turned then, slowly, and placed a gaze of molten obsidian upon the man. It reflected no hint of emotion, but the black veins were spreading the longer the possession continued. The miasma of shadow surrounding her flickered like a flame bidden by otherworldly currents. She considered him in silence for several moments.

The likelihood of there being anything left to these ruins of tangible value was low in the extremes. The fame of the dual Queens of Rattatak had been far spread, fanned and exacerbated by their involvement in Sith affairs. Their fall from power would not have gone unnoticed and the Rattataki were a people born of opportunity. Letting these places sit idle would not have been on the agenda. So what would an archeologist have to find here of worth? Something sentimental. Something personal.

"There is no value or power left here in the namesake of the fallen Queens," said Blackthorne as she strode past [member="Maleagant"] and made for the pilot's chamber, "only power to be taken or made."

 

[Darth Osano]

Maleagant was not particularly interested in justifying his outing to [member="Blackthorne"] or the spirit that was using her as a shell. She had only been brought along out of convenience and, as usual, that convenience had long been outlived. What was he going to do if this happened in the middle of a match and the spooky ghost started shooting bolts of hatred into the crowd? There was only so many defaming incidents the Helix Syndicate could successfully cover up. A massacre at one of his arenas was not one of them.

He would just have to deal with it when it came up. For now, making sure she didn't send his ship into a nose dive once it took off was top priority. Maleagant crept after he as she coldly marched on by, muttering his reply. "If you say so."

 

[Blackthorne]

Silence ensued once the woman had claimed the pilot's seat, strapping in and engaging the engines. They left the ground and the ruins shortly after. An entire hour passed them by without a word shared - something for which Blackthorne seemed to lament not at all. A setting sun raced them across the horizon, chasing the shadow of the ship with tails of fading gold on an otherwise bleak landscape. When the shadow of the Cauldron filled the viewport it brought with it the first flurry of movement since she sat down.

Hands moved deftly across the control panel, bringing the ship down on the outskirts of the settlement surrounding the behemoth sitting at its center. The engines thrown into idle, Dahl exited the pilot's cabin and retrieved her bag, pulling it over her shoulders without a word. Exit ramp lowering, she paused at the hatchway to glance at [member="Maleagant"] with a look of burning coals.

"Leave this place, Melwas," the ramp dropped into place and Blackthorne turned to disembark, "it was your intention anyway."

Then she departed, making way for the Cauldron with purpose.

 

[Darth Osano]

If [member="Blackthorne"] had not known how to pilot before, she certainly did now. Even Maleagant was not all that handy at the controls of a starfighter or shuttle. Then again, he had never really practiced. His calling lay elsewhere. He deftly moved out of the way when she unceremoniously departed from the controls, stalking through the hull of the ship again. Unfortunately, Blackthorne did not circle around and evaporate the rest of the vomit as he had hoped. Looked like it would have to be done the old fashioned way. Bucket, mop, and maintenance droid.

Cleaning up the bodily fluids of others was never something Maleagant did if he could avoid it.

As the loading ramp descended, the individual formerly calling herself Blackthorne ordered him to leave and presumed to know his intentions. His lips pursed in annoyance. Maleagant had always assumed his cards were closer to his chest than most could read. What had gotten into Blackthorne? Something with emotional x-ray vision? He'd be glad to be rid of her then. "Call me when you're done." He muttered coldly, though she was already halfway down the ramp and probably hadn't heard him.