Crossing of Paths

[Rys'sya]

Rys'sya was not a fan of the 'nightlife' on Coruscant. The bars. The debauchery. The filth. People scurrying around, deadening their minds to escape from their problems. Seeking simple pleasures to fill voids in their daily lives. Sith did much the same that the common man did in their escapism. She knew this to be fact. The methods were different, as would be the collateral damage in most cases, but the personal end-results were the same. Void temporarily filled. Pain temporarily eased.

Pathetic.

She'd happen across an Acolyte, one she remembered with no measure of fondness, from her time on Korriban training. He was spineless, and honestly weak. He had great rage, but no potential to focus it, to wield it. He was one to feed his own ego, his own vision of self-importance, by abusing those weaker than himself, and sniveling up to any strong enough to offer protection.

Coming across the humanoid parasite, Rys'sya could only sigh in disgust. He was standing over a corpse. Fresh, she assumed. A still smoldering hole in the dead-mans chest from the still ignited lightsaber in his grimy hand. Turning about, his eyes widened in terror seeing the blind woman behind him. He'd make to flee, but as he started to lift a foot, she'd snap her hand out, hand curled in a claw-like grasp in the air. The Force did her will, embracing the man's neck in an unseen, unshakable grip. Elevating the young mane a few inches off the ground, she'd slowly approach him and his victim. The man, futilely clawing at his throat, as she would be squeezing just enough to severely impair how much air he could take in, but not stop it entirely.

After giving the dead man a cursory pat down, determining the victim was a man of little to know wealth, the woman stood and turned her captive to face her. "Why would you kill this man? Of what benefit does his death provide?" She asked, head tilting slightly towards one shoulder. Her hand eased it's clutch in the air, as the pressure holding the mans throat closed eased, allowing breath and speech.

"The... Weak, are to be killed by the strong!" He proclaimed defiantly, from his precarious position.

The woman considered his words for a moment, a soft smile playing across delicate features. "Then, by your very own logic.... Shouldn't I then kill you?" She'd ask, walking slowly around the man. "We confirmed, time and again on Korriban, that I am stronger than you. So, by your code, by your views, should I, or shouldn't I kill you?" She'd finish her circle, standing before the man once more.

"N-no! I, I mean...!" The man floundered, the hole in his claim glaringly obvious now that he faced the woman with his glaring disadvantage.

She'd laugh softly, a deceptively gentle sound coming from a deceptively docile appearing creature. "Calm yourself Rezzek. I have no intentions of killing you. Weak as you are, your death will not necessarily serve to benefit the One Sith. No, you are, for now, more valuable alive." She'd lower him back to the ground, releasing her grip. "That man, any potential value he had, any benefit he would have been to us, to the Sith, is gone. Lost forever, because of your lust for your power." She'd shake her head slightly. "Weigh the consequences of your actions Rezzek. Make sure the benefit is worth the loss. Take life, when needed." She'd continue smiling at the man, before nodding her head past the young mans shoulder, effectively dismissing him.

After a few short moments processing what just happened, Rezzek nodded fervently, "Y-yes! Yes Rys'sya! I will! Thank you!" He'd bluster, before turning tail and fleeing with all due haste from the scene.

Shaking her head, Rys'sya could only laugh as she felt him flee. Always a coward that one, but he'll serve a purpose eventually, before his end. He spoke some truth. The strong do end up killing the weak. But the strong shouldn't kill the weak for sport. All death should have meaning. Death needs to have as much value as life. And speaking of death, there was still the matter of the corpse. How was she going to get this cleaned up?

[member=Tirdarius]

 

[Teynara Jeralyr]

[member="Rys'sya"]

The exchange had proven interesting enough, perhaps paradoxically so when considering the two that had been speaking - one with a clear, articulate, coldly-delivered message, the other defiant, but also afraid. The line between rage and fear is one easily blurred. That one offered reasonable words that perhaps he himself might have spoken had come as a surprise, though Tirdarius no doubt would have taught a very different lesson. After all, your friend there retreats from you now for fear that you will do violence upon him. But all he has learned from this is to fear you up close yet hate you from afar. No purpose would be served by such.

It still amused him, the arrogance on display: one, so casual in their superiority, killing a being who was of no threat to them. The other, drawing a clear line underneath the relationship between herself and the murderer, noting herself to be stronger than him, and thus less in need of the ego boost provided by such a simple kill. Where she fails to take note, though, is that she has allowed an injustice to take place with no consideration of consequence. Fortunately, he was present himself to repair this failure.

That he'd encountered either of them was as much a matter of chance as any other - he'd taken to strolling through the undercity of Coruscant, from time-to-time. Sith must never allow themselves to be immune to the suffering of those that they would rule. He wanted to see how those at the lowest levels of society lived here, to observe their struggle and their suffering, and witness those minor acts of sacrifice that beings down here had to perform each and every day, purely to survive. And therein lies a true Sith lesson: survival is not a matter of strength, but a consequence of being willing to risk it all with every breath.

It was the murder that had drawn him, of course.

Death calls to us more strongly than life: one is present nearly everywhere, but the other exists only when the first is extinguished.. He had sensed it, a candle snuffed out with rapidity that only accident or homicidal intent could produce. And so I came to find the cause. Having found it, it was hardly surprising to find a pair of Sith present. But surprising, perhaps, to observe what followed.

His grey eyes watched as the male fled from his 'stronger' companion - fled in the direction of the concealed Sith Lord, no less. Fortuitous, really, for his presence within this sequence of events is not yet over. Tirdarius raised his hand, pale skin apparent against the soft darkness of the robe that he wore, a strong concentrated burst of energy emerging from his hand, an invisible wave projected towards the boy approaching him. The young Acolyte bounced off it as though he'd smashed into a duracrete wall, collapsing backwards with an evident cry of pain - one that, the Sith Lord had to admit, rather amused him.

Stepping forward from the darkness in which he had concealed himself, the illusion he had weaved that had left him indistiguishable from his surroundings dissapating in a shimmer as he stalked towards the boy, reaching down and grabbing him firmly around the forearm, yanking him to his feet and throwing him roughly in the direction of the female student, and the corpse that this young fool had so foolishly left there.

"Now imagine the harm you cause by allowing one such as this to run around unchecked," he said in conversational tone, directing his words to the girl, rather than to the young man that he had tossed to the floor at her feet. "He has already proven himself capable of the murder of others, fancying himself Sith simply because he can kill unchallenged by those he chooses to call 'victims'," the Sith Lord continued, gesturing once more at the Acolyte.

"Understand the type of being you see here, girl," he continued, coming to a stop so that he stood opposite the Acolyte with the dazed younger man and his cold dead victim lying between them. "He seeks to dominate not because it is necessary, but because it makes him feel good, strong, vital." Tirdarius shook his head, grey eyes staring coldly at them both. "You emasculated him with your threat, but as all bullies do, he will soon seek out another victim, to harm them with a casual brutality that serves only to feed his absurd ego."

"This one is a murderer, a petty criminal of violent means, nothing more," the dark-robed Sith Lord observed calmly. "His service to the Sith will continue only as a lesson to you, and shall end just as abruptly." He folded his arms across his chest, watching the young woman with a calm, measuring stare, ignoring the boy at his feet. "Kill him. And let it be a lesson to you in the process."

 

[Rys'sya]

A cry of pain, with shock mingled therein, reached the acolytes ears. Turning from the corpse, she saw the Force signature of Rezzek. Barely. It was dwarfed by the massive presence of the Sith Lord clutching his arm. As the power of his presence crashed over her like waves upon the shore, she couldn't refrain from trembling slightly. Such terrible power. Such a still, churning fury. He wasn't the embodiment of unquenchable rage like other Lords she'd encountered. No, his was more terrifying in her minds eye. Cold, calculating, and restrained. She watched him with what could easily be considered awe. The vibrations of his presence, he felt the way she hoped one day to be.

He spoke, cold truths. She nodded, watching Rezzek staring between the two of them, terror almost palpable in the air around him, visible to her sight. "You are correct, my Lord." She stated respectfully. "I have no explanation to give as to why I showed mercy. And excuses are a disservice to myself, and an insult to you." Her attention remained upon Rezzek, as he opened and closed his mouth, pleas for his life falling unspoken, looking much like a fish suffocating on dry land. "The Lord is correct, you know, Rezzek? I was not correct in releasing you. You have contributed nothing to the Sith, and your selfish actions serve to only be a tripping stone for any who interact with you, myself included."

"P.....p....lease...." Rezzek whined pitifully, knowing full well what was soon to come.

The young woman extended a hand, clutching the air as the Force wound around the mans neck firmly. He would claw at his throat, tears welling up and streaking down his cheeks. Slowly, she lifted the other hand, as if gripping with it as well. "For your sins against the Sith, you likely deserve worse than I am giving you. But there is no joy in this. Your purpose has reached it's end. I do as I must, to prevent you from damaging us any further than you already have." A sudden twist, a wrenching motion of her two hands in opposite directions, had the boy's neck twisting suddenly, sharply, at an unnatural angle, a sudden, sickening crack, and just as abruptly, his light flickered off, life leaving his body. Laying his corpse alongside that of his murder-victim, Rys'sya would sigh slightly, disappointed in herself for not being more proactive, and by being unwilling to do what was needed to begin with, caused a Sith Lord to feel compelled to intervene.

Turning to [member=Tirdarius], Rys'sya would bow deeply with respect. "Acolyte Rys'sya. And I beg your forgiveness for sullying your hands and your time with my own failings." Her pulse was elevated, much against her will, standing in the powerful presence of this Lord of the Sith, she knew that one misstep, one wrong word or action, could just as easily land her laying on the cold duracrete next to Rezzek.

 

[Teynara Jeralyr]

[member="Rys'sya"]

Observing a second cold-blooded murder following the first truthfully felt as though it were all in a day's work, such a common-place thing that it barely concerned him. So often do I see the same atrocities among the others, taking life as it pleases them and revelling in the death they create. One day there would undoubtedly be a reckoning for it all - but today would not be that day. The boy's lifeless corpse crumpled to the duracrete pavement at their feet, cooling rapidly as consciousness faded from his eyes. An ironic enough end for a murderer.

"His crimes were not against the Sith," he commented, turning his eyes away from the corpse and back to the one who had created it. "Many among our brethren would have lauded his success and encouraged him to seek out another victim, to gorge on his sadistic desires." The Sith Lord brushed this off with a sigh, a long-standing but entirely heartfelt frustration that dimmed to resignation only through long experience with it. You cannot stand in the centre of a storm and expect to be left that way when it is through. He knew to oppose such foolishness in full would be a forlorn hope, but nor was he inclined to ignore such brutal excess.

"Even the worst murdered among our ranks deserves nothing more than a merciful death - they may not grant it to others, but to force them into suffering only brings you to that same level," he intoned, gesturing to the corpse of the boy at their feet. In truth, he would have ended it a little more efficiently, but the girl had clearly felt the need to justify her actions by explaining the boy's murder to him before she enacted it. Interesting how some square with their conscience in such a way. "This one fell because he killed without purpose. No single death serves our cause, but his failure was worse than that."

He turned, spinning on the ball of his feet, directing his eyes away from the girl and further down the street in which they stood. None were left to spectate the events here, if any had cared to from the beginning. One murder might be a curiousity, but where Sith walk, mundane beings frequently flee. It was a truism he was accustomed to now.

"Have you never wondered at the purpose of the Sith?", the tall Human asked with rhetorical intent. "We would rule, govern a Galaxy. Can we do so if we kill at random and harm those we would command?" He shook his head, answering his own question with a small gesture that cost him nothing at all. "Brutal murder of this kind only undercuts all that we seek to achieve: we either create the order by which we would expect our subjects to live, or we are just part of the chaos that needs to be burned away, a cancer on our own civilisation." And much of that still must be cut out yet, before my time is done. That reality had never escaped him. "How can we expect to enforce law and fair rule if we do not ourselves employ it?"

 

[Rys'sya]

She'd gnaw on her lip for a brief moment, contemplating her next words as carefully as she could. "But, my Lord. His masquerading as a member of the One Sith, murdering for no gain to any but his own ego. Does that not cheapen our validity as Sith? Pointless actions yielding no gain?" She'd ask, following [member=Tirdarius] as he strode down the alley away from her. "I know the volume of his other crimes outweigh this, and I seek not to question or undermine your judgement, I only ask to understand where exactly the flaws in my thoughts are. I intend to learn from this, if given the chance."

She watched and listened as he continued. He asked a question, then promptly answered, his words mirroring her thoughts as he spoke them. As if he was reaching inside her mind and plucking the words out directly. But, the sincerity and the conviction with which he spoke them, she knew without a doubt that these thoughts were his own. These beliefs were his own. Once again, her expression was defaulted to awe, gazing with her sight upon this man.

"Leading by example, in all things. We must hold ourselves, Sith, to the standard we seek to hold the universe to. We cannot punish the bottom of the ladder for things we let the upper rungs do freely. If we do not police ourselves, keep order among ourselves, how can we expect those we rule, and in turn serve and protect, to respect the order we demand of them?" She asked all this, experimentally. She watched him carefully, as if seeking his input, his corrections, of her words and thoughts. She already knew the rampant destruction this younger generation of Sith was becoming known for was not the way to go, so she felt, no... she knew this man would be her best bet to be molded into a true Sith. One of the true leaders of the galaxy. Her desire now was to learn from this man, however much, or little, he'd be willing to impart upon her.

 

[Teynara Jeralyr]

[member="Rys'sya"]

And that's the crux of it, isn't it?, Tirdarius asked himself, entirely rhetorically, since he had no intention of answering his own inner thoughts directly. The girl had asked the same question that often disturbed his own meditations, the same that had been a question that had burdened him since he had first undergone his own training. To permit violence and brutality to permeate the ranks of the Sith so deeply, such that it went all the way up the hierarchy...how could it be allowed?

The truth lay in a mixture of indifference among the Sith Lords and a fair number of them that enjoyed such methods themselves. How do we stop the sadistic tendencies from seaping through the ranks when some at the very top of the pyramid use them themselves? The Sith needed to tap into the Dark Side, and it was oftentimes this which corrupted them, pushing them to excess that they might otherwise have avoided. And the others are simply insane. He'd realised that early on, recognising that the lure of power often drew true sadists, psychopaths bent on causing pain and suffering because it offered them the most profitable feeling of release. And so I'll kill any I observe in such behaviour.

It still struck him as ironic that he'd killed far more of his own people than most Jedi.

"You speak of beings far stronger than you, girl. It's no simple thing to pit yourself against your brethren and slay them out of hand," he said, not even glancing in her direction, keeping his gaze ahead as they walked. "You may have found it simple to kill that boy, but he was no threat to you, only to others. To oppose those who walk on those upper rungs, you would place yourself at considerable risk." And what would you gain from it? Kill one Sith, another would take their place, regardless of who they had to step on to get there. Invariably you could only kill so many before your role became anarchical, destabilising the very Order you were working to support.

It all came to having different values: many of the stronger Sith felt themselves entitled to rule, took it as something due their power rather than considering it a deeper responsibility. Thus, those below us become chattel to be disposed of, rather than worthy of our support and respect. It was a simple flaw in Sith ideology, this notion of strength versus weakness, for it ultimately meant that, when you were stronger than another being, they were little more than a victim waiting for you to take their lives. Which ensures that arrogance will always be the true flaw among us.

"We have understood from the first that the Galaxy is an unfair place," the Sith Lord continued, his urbane voice carrying a soft timbre that was only barely above a whisper, intended to carry to her and her alone. "Predators hunt their prey, the strong target those weaker than them, and this is a cycle that we were always intended to break." He shook his head, mildly exasperated by the thoughts flowing through his mind. "The simplicity of it was to have the strongest in a position of power, so none could prey on others without receiving consequences, much as our late friend experienced," Tirdarius noted, flicking a hand backwards in a gesture towards the alleyway. "But hypocrisy runs deep among us now, where our role is now to be the predators, not merely that which keeps them in check."

 

[Rys'sya]

Our role is now to be the predators, not merely that which keeps them in check. His words echoed about in her mind. Is it possible to embrace both sides of the coin? Be the predator, but not only that, the apex predator? Be the predator the other predators fear? The hunter who hunted the other hunters? Set the bar, and make others conform?

But, that would be like attempting to divert a river with a stream. Two forces, similar in nature, but diametrically opposed in force and vastness. On paper, it would all look nice and noble, but the reality would be far different. The nail that stands out is the first to be hammered down. And seeking a premature demise at the hands of those far superior to oneself was quite a foolish way to seek an impact in this world. The last way Rys'sya would dream of leaving the universe was as a grease-stain stuck to the bottom of another's boot.

Her sight would turn more towards the Sith Lord, as she contemplated the potential ramifications of her next possible courses of action. His aura, palpable, tangible, terrible and lovely at the same time. The control, the order, and the fury that was this Sith Lord. The first she'd found who at least spoke thoughts that she desired to see manifest in the universe as a whole. "I know I risk much, potentially speaking out of turn, but this is a risk I must take now, Lord. I grew concerned as time passed that I'd not likely encounter another who's views I could share in the upper ranks." Her attention solely on [member=Tirdarius], not the scurrying mortals seeking refuge in their hovels and apartments as the two passed. "I sought a Master for some time now, one who would perhaps embrace my desire for rational actions, not just the Passions that so often drive my peers. If you would have me, I would prefer to seek your guidance in matters of the Force, and being a proper Sith, over another." She'd say, bowing her head low as they walked.

She knew she was being bold, but she also knew she couldn't pass the chance to gain this Sith Lord's guidance. She'd not likely get another opportunity to seek his audience again in such a private setting. Their encounter was chance. Coincidence. The Force must have willed that we meet. She'd muse to herself, as she awaited his response. Would he accept her? Would he turn her away? Or would he reveal a more Standard Sith nature and punish her severely for her impudence. She would accept whatever came, as she felt certain this particular Sith Lord would give her whatever response he felt fitting, be it pain or acceptance.

 

[Teynara Jeralyr]

[member="Rys'sya"]

Silence met her question as the two of them continued walking in an unhurried fashion down an alleyway that likely had never seen one Sith, let alone two. The underbelly of Coruscant wasn't exactly known as a spot likely to be visited by their kind - perhaps part of the reason that so much chaos and unlawful activity remained common down here - but it was obvious enough in the movements of those who observed them that there was an awareness of their nature. Or at least, they know just enough of us to be afraid, but not enough to realise that they have no reason to be. If nothing else spoke to the absurdity of some among the Sith, that was testament enough.

Little surprise, then, that the girl had thought to put forward such an audacious request. He could sense the fear rushing through her, halted rapidly by a note of acceptance, one that said she well understood the potential consequences of her action, but stood willing to embrace them. That's as it should be, the Sith Lord noted silently, continuing his impromptu pondering. A Sith should always accept consequence, for how else can we ask others to do the same, or have the audacity to mete out those repercussions? It proved that the girl had, at least, learned that one lesson. As for others...perhaps those will yet come.

He knew her kind, of course: the blindfold that covered her eyes was a natural giveaway. It was said that the Miraluka perceived things to which other mortals were blind - perhaps even more than other Force users, though he'd have been hard-pressed to present evidence in support of such a claim. Still, if it were true, she might yet prove valuable: such a one trained to note the nuances of a situation and act on them might yet be a potent force among the Sith. But subtle enough to stay out of the politics.

"You don't necessarily understand what it is you ask," he informed her softly, his usual urbane tones lower than usual, reflective in a way that almost suggested that he was not speaking directly to her. "My way is not that of most Sith: I do not seek after power or care for the struggles and violence that characterise our kind. I do not teach gifts that might help you overthrow one Sith, or another, and my methods will not help you reach the top of any pyramid," he continued, not bothering to look at her, knowing that she would not see him through traditional means anyway.

It was strange to be asked this, as the girl had put forward her request. Rare was it for any student among the Sith to approach a teacher and directly ask for their knowledge. Such a thing is bold, but perhaps overly brash, not knowing what the response might be. He had often seen such lessons begin with pain and anguish, the student forced to confront their own foolishness before being permitted any other understanding. Thus is our first law often taught: that obedience to your superiors and loyalty to our cause is paramount, above all things. If you did not know your place, you would soon be taught it. It is a lesson many in the upper ranks have forgotten, it would seem. The girl seemed to understand this as much as he did.

"If you would truly commit to that, remember one simple lesson: our role is to serve, nothing more." He came to a stop, shaking his head for a moment, his mind far away once more. "Though it is in our nature to rule, the Sith commit to do so in service of the Galaxy, not against it," he said, softly, ever so softly. "Many of our brethren have forgotten this, and glorify themselves above the good of the people they seek to rule. Join their number, and it is me you must answer to."

 

[Rys'sya]

Our role is to serve.

The Sith Lord's words rang with her heart. She didn't want to gain power necessarily for her own benefit. She genuinely wanted to be a difference in the universe. Not a hero like the Jedi believed they were. She felt they, the Sith, needed to rule, to lead, because the unwashed masses could not handle the course themselves. The universe, left to its own devices, would only yield chaos, discord, and ultimately the destruction of society as a whole.

They needed to lead, because others couldn't.

"I understand. You made it quite clear early on that you are unlike any other Sith I'd met before. I..." The Miraluka paused, seeking the right words. "I... feared.... That I may have been alone in my views.... While they are still a developing philosophy, I know of no others who share the path I sought to take.... Until now." She watched the Sith Lord, her sight watching for any variance in his aura, his mood. Trying to discern if his opinion of her would lead to acceptance, or punishment. "I asked, likely out of place or turn, for you to take me, to teach me, because I am convinced without your guidance, it is very likely I'd end up either falling before my time. Or more likely subject to the path of another teacher, one who'd seek to corrupt my intent into something less worthy of the Galaxy. A path more akin to the acolyte whom you had me end earlier."

The young woman fell silent, mulling momentarily over what she said. She felt none of it was quite out of place, but if any of it was, she'd soon learn so from the Sith Lord. Any offense would likely be met with swift retribution. Such was often the Sith method of discipline. Life was pain, and pain promoted growth. Growth made you a better citizen of the Galaxy. Without growth, you are a cancer, and a cancer shall be cut away. Contribute in the manner in which you can, or be discarded. I intend to contribute to this universe before my time is up.

[member="Tirdarius"]

 

[Teynara Jeralyr]

[member="Rys'sya"]

In some respects, he understood well the girl's dilemma - had he not been taken to one of the few Sith that held out for the longer view, perhaps he might have ended up as the type she described: the reckless, the vainglorious, the sadistic. There were precious few of those who did not follow such a path, as clearly the young woman was aware, but there was reason for that: they tended to be the ones who watched and waited, offering patience and quiet oversight while the others jumped in and honed their bloodthirstiness on the unwilling sacrifice of those who were viewed as 'obstacles'. Or victims.

It was a dangerous path to tread, though, the life of the more circumspect Sith. After all, we so often shows our claws that others mistake us for easy prey. Then, of course, was the simple fact that they targeted other Sith as often as any enemies of their kind. Sometimes Sith are enemies of our own kind, when they are prone to acting in a fashion that risks upsetting the delicate balance our path requires. The young woman had just now murdered one such being: the kind of man who had felt himself Sith, but lacked the discipline and patience it required. He sought only to satisfy his own urges and to empower himself purely for his own benefit. Such beings were dangerous, and needed to be put down quickly.

Of course a Sith had to be ruthless, oftentimes violent, and the girl had displayed those qualities already - though the fact that she had chosen opportunity to be merciful before he had intervened...that alone was an interesting character trait so rarely seen among their kind. It was a necessity in his view, of course - to kill all those that stood in their path, or that were simply weaker, well, that was simply wasteful. And how can one develop a peaceful galaxy when half the population has been slain out of hand? At least the girl had sense enough to understand that.

"Understand that, in requesting that, you put your life in danger, girl," he informed her calmly, not bothering to look at her, knowing that she wouldn't see the gesture anyway. "There are many opposed to that way of life: not merely Jedi or their allies, but other Sith as well. They see restraint in any form as a heresy against their creed, and won't hesitate to choose you as a victim, should you step in their way."

 

[Rys'sya]

"My Lord..." The young woman started, a soft smile upon her lips. "As long as I wear the mantle of Sith, my life is at risk. As long as I breath, my life is at risk. I desire this path, and wish not to stray from it, and that as well, puts my life at risk. I stand the greatest chance at having my life have an impact on the universe, by following one such as yourself." Her head bowed, as she continued observing the Dark Lord through the Force. I could have sought out a more volatile master, but I knew there had to be one out there who thought as I do. She mused, hopeful. This man, this bastion of dark calculations, was everything she had been hoping for since she left her initial studies in search of a proper master.

She'd continue, "I know, with the proper training, even at the hands of a less restrained Lord, I could grow to be a terrifying monstrosity, unleashing my hatred across the stars. But, I don't want to be just another tool of destruction. I want to have a hand in order, in directing the galaxy to where it needs to be. I wish to build, to strengthen the galaxy, not be yet another piece of the mass destruction that a majority of our order are content to be a part of." Her attention remained upon him, upon his aura. She needed his acceptance in this. She needed his guidance. She had no desire for a premature demise, but she knew without the guidance only he'd be capable of giving, she'd either wind up another power-hungry monster cutting a path through the universe, or almost as bad, a waste of potential left dying at someone else's hands.

Will this be the man I call Master? Will this man be the one to help me, to help him, to steer the galaxy in the path that it should go? She wondered. All he needed was to give the word, and her loyalty would be sealed.

[member=Tirdarius]