Private Do It Again

[Caulder Dune]

Gargolyn IV - Sictis Academy
Landing Pad

The Sictis Academy rose like a blighted monolith above the wilderness. It was the only structure for thousands of miles. A great risk anywhere else in the galaxy, but here in the outback, it was hardly a concern. A remote and untraveled region on an uninhabited planet was more than adequate in avoiding attention.

And yet people kept showing up.

Darth Adekos stood alone on the landing pad, waiting to greet yet another transient gawker. The second time in the last two weeks. The first had been for some guttering sorceress. And now it was on to one of the baker’s dozen of Zambrano thralls that scurried about the galaxy at any given time.

He kept his arms folded neatly across his chest as he waited for her, incredulous as usual. It was not a disposition that changed, even when he saw just how terribly frail Evelynn was. Borderline emaciated. Unbelievable. Really, that the Emperor of all the Sith couldn’t even keep his family fed properly. But professionalism above all.

"Lady Evelynn, a pleasure to receive you," he said, in his usual formal, courteous way.

His eyes flickered to the golden hand, and then back to her. Clearly the family food budget had gone elsewhere. It reeked of Darth Maliphant, that infamous and often unpredictable artisan. Any sensible person might have called it ostentatious, gaudy, too flashy by half.

So Darth Adekos thought it looked amazing, obviously.

“Ah. The work of Darth Maliphant, I presume. Lovely.” He observed, apparently forgetting whatever pre-loaded insult he had come up with while waiting. “I hope you didn't play into that 'pick your price' routine of his. Such melodramatic foolishness.”

Oh, never mind. There it was.

---

Beatrice Govan​

 

[Beatrice Govan]

At least she had been able to emotionally prepare for Darth Adekos, well, for as much good as it would do her. It was hard to imagine a tongue more scalding than Darth Maliphant's but the alchemist had promised the woman that such was the case.

The battle plan (so-to-speak) was quite simple. Grin and bear it. Stiff upper lip and all that. Leave any traces of arrogance behind on the ship. Do not try and match wits, at least for the time being. After all, what use was there in being deliberately unpleasant in this scenario? What would it gain? Evelynn imagined that he would already find her quite unpalatable on surname alone, so there was little reason other than pride for her to make matters more difficult.

The petite woman may have been the very definition of a Sith whelp but at least she understood how things worked. In the face of someone lesser, such smug vanity was only natural but in the face of a Sith Lord pomposity was foolish.

Give it time.

Upon the landing pad, she greeted him with a pleasant thin-lipped smile and a deep bow. So far so good. Even garnered a compliment for her magnificent golden limb.

Oh.

There it was.

The smile drew into an even thinner line as her mind considered the possibility that Darth Maliphant had her pick her price for the sake of his own sense of theatre. An eyebrow twitched. No, surely not. Well, actually. Oh, no. If there was any form of consolation, it was that she had been just as dramatic in the act of price picking, even if what seemed right then now seemed perfectly idiotic.

All she could do was laugh, a peculiar blend of throaty vowels mingling in the air between them as her open mouth revealed the distinct lack of tongue within. If you don't laugh, you'll cry.

Ah, in my defence it seemed perfectly mandatory at the time, came the somewhat mousy telepathic tones from Evelynn as her mind still fretted about pointless self-sacrifice, oh well, you live and you learn.

You live and you learn was not her true feelings on the subject, her true feelings were screaming somewhere in the back of her mind at the slightest notion of giving up her tongue for nothing more than potent spectacle.

Thank you for agreeing to see me, My Lord. Have you already been informed upon the nature of this meeting?

Caulder Dune

 

[Caulder Dune]

Evelynn laughed, to his surprise, revealing a mouth that was hideously devoid of a tongue. The grimace Darth Adekos bore gradually transitioned to a mean smile as he drew his conclusions. The poor wretch! She was emaciated because she could hardly eat anything, not out of neglect on the part of her handler.

It was all a mere result of her pathetic ignorance.

Amazing. That made it even worse.

“One would have assumed a former queen wouldn’t need such lessons,” he remarked, resuming his grim countenance. “More’s the pity.”

Darth Adekos was not a fan of her telepathic manner of speech. It reminded him of Darth Tirdarius. That elitist pseudo-philosopher had spoken that way out of choice rather than need – a pinnacle of snobbery that even Adekos was hesitant to climb.

That said, even Tirdarius had eventually tired of that routine. Evelynn here was apparently stuck with it forever. Or maybe not, who knew. He wiped his eye with a finger, and shook his head. Why would Maliphant ever tell him anything?

“Oh no. I simply have a soft spot for helpless, broken things. What were you told would be the nature of this meeting?”

---

Beatrice Govan​

 

[Beatrice Govan]

A polite smile, golden fingers drumming against the side of her leg to combat that feeling of chided foolishness. Early days. There'd be far worse to endure than this.

He was right, of course. On paper. A former queen and a sorceress should have had a better grasp upon such affairs. Walking in and trading one vital body part for another was not the most intelligent trade in the history of the galaxy. However, what hadn't been accounted for was the woman's prior hedonistic lunacy. It was only now, in the face of her own vulnerability and weakness that she had clarity and perhaps more importantly some semblance of sanity.

I seek your tutelage.

Simple intentions were spoken plainly.

Evelynn's nose crinkled as if she had come across a foul smell between them. If Darth Adekos were anything like his alchemical companion, then there would have to be a further explanation, lest she was shooed right off the landing pad and back into her ship.

Evidently, I am lacking and require training but I do not wish to be confined to my Father's circle, the Apprentice conceded rather bluntly as if she had been practising this spiel not minutes before their encounter, I wish to seek aid from who I see fit. It was not wholly appropriate for me to visit Darth Maliphant and yet it has garnered me this wondrous creation.

She lifted said creation, rotating the arm and flexing the fingers. It was still somewhat peculiar to see such inflexible material move in such natural rhythm.

I seek the best.

A pause to leave some room for a grimace and for emerald eyes to look to his artificial gaze.

That is if you'll have me.

Caulder Dune

 

[Caulder Dune]

Ah. Tutelage. How rare it was that someone should seek wisdom from him. Darth Adekos was so flattered, had nothing waspish to say in response. He merely raised a thoughtful eyebrow, and allowed Evelynn to ‘speak’ until finished.

At a certain point, he could not help but look away and at her golden arm instead. Any artist would be distracted if someone wheeled out masterpieces in the middle of a conversation. So too would Adekos be captivated by impressive cybernetic craftsmanship.

It was the Mechu-Deru equivalent of flashing ankle at a Jedi convent. Scandalous. Outrageously so.

His attention snapped back to Evelynn, eyes narrowing in scrutiny. “Allow me to offer some friendly advice, then. Strength is best drawn from within oneself and one’s own works. To spurn the connections of your so-called ‘family’ is an act of wisdom, but one you have now squandered by deciding to court reliance elsewhere.”

An old lesson, but one Darth Adekos had apparently taken to his shriveled heart.

“I sense the rituals of two separate Sith Lords on you – one within that arm, and another on your spirit. If that is the form of aid you seek, to become some fetid amalgam of Sith charity, then no, I will not have you. It is poor practice to instruct the servants of others.”

“But if you would like to learn how to cast aside these stifling gifts in time, to rise in accordance to your own merit… Then yes. Perhaps there is something I might teach you.”

---

Beatrice Govan​

 

[Beatrice Govan]

Evelynn nodded, considering his words. It would have been far preferable in the eyes of the Empire for the woman to have remained by her family's side and to have been mentored within that circle. However, it was not preferable in the eyes of ambition. There were two diverging paths there, what her Father considered to be a great Sith and what she considered a great Sith.

If such darkened heights were to be her written destiny then was she not to be its author?

It was advice absorbed in silence, not warranting input but instead to be absorbed. If nothing else, the Apprentice had at least garnered some wisdom from this meeting. Hopefully not to be the last.

I'm rather quite tired of being a servant, she remarked with a small sigh, mouth forming a rather grim line.

For the first time in so long Evelynn finally had clarity upon that matter. It seemed as if for eternity there had always been a Nemene Talith or a Kaine Zambrano in the picture, even without them the woman had become a slave to her own base desires over time.

Become who you need to be. Darth Maliphant's alcohol-hazed riddles suddenly made a lot more sense.

Yes, the latter is very much preferable.

The woman stared down at the alchemist's golden glory, staring into the palm before it closed into a tight fist. Even this was a crutch by Darth Adekos' reckoning. Such a magnificent crutch though, as she tore her eyes away from the limb to look back up at the Sith Lord before her.

I want this for me, she started, telepathic voice almost absent-minded at first before beginning to grow, to find my absolute pinnacle, not merely as a Sith but as an individual and beyond the expectation of my family. I want to be more.

There was nobody in the galaxy better to ask than the man stood before her. A long-lived Sith was a rare sight to behold on its own, but one whose ambition was wrought with education and measured consideration in place of maddening malevolence was beyond priceless.

But I cannot do it without your guidance.

Caulder Dune

 

[Caulder Dune]

It was nice to see that same creeping realization arrive in someone else for a change. How fortunate Evelynn only had to die several times to reach this point, rather than spend years in a metaphorical gutter as Adekos had. There was only so much indignity to be found in death. Life, on the other hand, was a constant wellspring of the stuff - and so a constant stream of learning experience, each more humiliating than the last.

The handouts he had received over the course of his career were not so dramatic or obvious as a golden arm, but stifling regardless. Governorships, titles of nobility, valued holocrons, powerful relics… Aimless toil and pageantry had freed him from the need to reflect. It had not brought him satisfaction.

Adekos did not understand it then, but he saw it clearly now.

Ashin Varanin or Dissero flinging the Telos Holcoron haphazardly at him would only ever be a trite and pointless act of charity. Pity. Condescension. But the holocron of Belia Darzu, pried from the clutches of the Order of the Selab after a pitched and bloody battle…

A wry, almost bemused smile grew slowly across the Umbaran’s face, like a spreading affliction. “Ah. Now you begin to sound like a Sith.”

Minus that last statement, of course. Anyone could do anything, regardless of guidance. Sith had been doing it for millennia without any particular input from Adekos. It was merely a question of finding the right instructor. Or failing that, the right set of experiences, in his case.

But it was a nice thought.

“Very well, Evelynn Dorn. We shall begin your training in earnest,” he gestured, signaling her to follow. “I hope you have a lightsaber. Fundamentals are important.”

---

Beatrice Govan​

 

[Beatrice Govan]

Evelynn Dorn.

The name simultaneously stiffened her back while letting loose a somewhat startled expression upon her face.

It made sense really, at least speaking in terms of stifling gifts. The first one to cast aside. A surname of so much implication that it practically eradicated who she was in the eyes of others. It was not Evelynn that stood before them, no, it was a reputation wrought by her father that alongside it brought fear, anger and most commonly of all disdain.

Yes, it was a handy name to drop in the right circles but it was these circles that she had defied by visiting Darth Maliphant in the first place.

Such defiance was the reason for the sudden fear held in now-rigid posture. If her father knew. If he heard the woman referred to in such a way, never mind from own voice. Dorn was defiant. From out of Adekos' mouth it spat in the face of the Emperor's eradication of such a name, and yet it had been hers. For seventeen years, Evelynn Dorn.

A girl of her own considerably different merit.

Poor thing.

Yes, I do, she replied, dragging herself out of such considerations and hastening to follow the Sith Lord, her lightsaber hilt hidden beneath her suitably plain black yet somewhat regal Imperial overcoat. Mercifully, I do come somewhat prepared, no introduction to the Code of the Sith needed on my account.

A frown.

Darth Adekos, while a well-known and heavily respected figure also remained somewhat of a mystery to Evelynn. His thoughts, his feelings and philosophies were an unknown quantity beyond his words and what modern studies told. All that the woman knew as a certainty was that unmatched and tempered intelligence strode before her.

Unless that is what you wish, she hastily added as an addendum as they walked, it would be a farce for me to come to you and then dictate my own curriculum.

Caulder Dune

 

[Caulder Dune]

Adekos rolled his eyes as he led the way. “Not that level of fundamental. Goodness.”

He would be hard-pressed to imagine a more torturous procedure than lecturing on the Sith Code for an hour. Evelynn had been a Sith monarch, and a relatively famous one at that. Adekos could grant the assumption she was familiar.

This was about something more important than that. This was about procedure.

The doors of the Sictis Academy were little more than a pair of featureless durasteel slabs. They rumbled open, seemingly without any prompt. The two Sith passed through a deserted antechamber before entering a byzantine network of stark metal walls, exposed pipes, and grated floors.

There were no decorations to speak of. No statues or flags so common at Sith-Imperial institutions. Just control panels, holographic “you are here” maps, room numbers bolted above shut doors, the occasional bench.

An institution as loving and nurturing as its founder.

“When you reach your pinnacle,” he said, after growing tired of the silence, “What is it you intend to do? How exactly do you intend to exercise your newfound power?”

---

Beatrice Govan​

 

[Beatrice Govan]

Oh, thank the Force.

Could you have imagined? The tragic suffering of the pair of them sitting there going through the very basics reserved for orphans with increasingly devastating backstories. The fundamentals are a lie. There is only tedium.

Sictis Academy was surprisingly spartan. Function over form was seemingly the motif at work here in direct contrast to the way he had glanced at her golden limb. Such blatant prestige was only necessary for the ordinary, they required a gilded education to lord over others but when you held powers unimaginable such things were mere trifles.

Didn't hurt to gloat now and again, however, especially over the blatantly less fortunate.

His question pierced the silence and placed the woman face-to-face with a familiar foe. The future. Her ambition. Plans.

I do not know.

Not a fantastic answer, hopefully, the follow-up would be somewhat stronger. Evelynn's forehead creased as her mind searched for the right words if there even were right words in the face of the unknown.

I cannot predict the future, what opportunity will be mine to take when that time comes? Wherein lies the basis of my newfound power? Plans were supposed to be of little importance, but planning was essential. Did good things come to those who waited? Who struck while the iron was hot? Whoever fabricated such phrases and idioms deserved to suffer.

Is such uncertainty foolishness?

Caulder Dune

 

[Caulder Dune]

He scoffed lightly. “Possibly.”

As Adekos led her, Evelynn would occasionally be treated to the sight of various students. They were a dour sort, clad in the standard officer-esque uniforms frequently employed by Sith academies.

Many aliens could be counted among their ranks – Bith, Givin, Anomids. At a certain point they passed a clique of Chiss arguing in hushed tones. They grew quiet when Darth Adekos drew near, then resumed once the two had passed.

“I have gradually found that it is best to keep plans fluid,” he continued, “By not having one at all, it could be said to possess the most fluid plan possible.”

They entered a large, circular antechamber. A pair of blast doors on the opposite end peeled open at their approach, revealing an unoccupied dojo. There were a few large, rectangular mats laid out, a few stands for holding various sparring weapons. Benches for observers were scattered throughout.

Otherwise, it was as austere as everything else seen so far.

Adekos approached one of the stands, picking a training lightsaber with a curved hilt. It was one of those rare devices employed to disapprovingly zap opponents rather than maim them.

“Yet it could also be said that you will bumble aimlessly through the galaxy for a period, and then be duped into becoming a pawn in the schemes of another.”

The blade ignited, casting a light golden color.

“Aside from wanting to unlock your full potential, you may want to decide what else it is you want out of life. Mastering the Force only brings satisfaction for Jedi.”

---

Beatrice Govan​

 

[Beatrice Govan]

The environment that she was lead through was certainly appealing.

No unnecessary trimmings or overarching gothic misery. The students were diverse, a far cry from her father's brutal xenophobia. Even the very uniforms that they sported granted some form of small organised pleasure. Function over all.

Both of his points were perfectly valid.

The idea of being fluid held a modicum of safety and readiness. The tides of the galaxy could change in a single battle. She recalled the emergence of the One Sith upon Coruscant, and how it gutted the Republic. The status quo tipped upon its head. A world of planning swiftly put the sword over a single campaign.

However, the counter-argument hit a little closer to home, causing the woman's mouth to be drawn into a grim line as she observed the disciplined continuity of the training dojo.

Yes, it would be terribly like her to become the pawn of another, even despite her best intentions. Who was to say that the woman was not falling for such a scheme right at this instant? Her thoughtful stare was drawn to the golden blade held in Darth Adekos' grip. Such is the nature of the Sith, there would be no Master that she could approach that would be free from ulterior-motive.

Even in that regard, he was still the optimal choice.

I feel like a child, she confessed suddenly, bitterly as once more she was face-to-face with the notion of purpose, this is the first time in my existence that I have held the mental competency to consider such a quandary and yet nothing comes to me.

Assuming that Darth Adekos wasn't just holding a training lightsaber for the fun of it, Evelynn began to remove her black overcoat, before neatly folding the garment and placing off to the side (asking for a coat-hanger might have been a bit too much). Beneath she was suitably uniformed, in a manner not too dissimilar from his own students, but she had at least opted for a black scheme with golden trim.

I am lost, and it is utterly frustrating.

Caulder Dune

 

[Caulder Dune]

Adekos ambled over to one end of the mat, giving the lightsaber a slow, idle spin, familiarizing himself with the grip. Evelynn’s prior ‘existence’ had been one driven largely by feral impulses, particularly as it pertained to dominating others.

Or at least, that was how he understood it. It hardly needed re-stating what the result of that kind of lifestyle was. Sith without a higher calling or some kind of goal beyond primal instinct would only ever be swallowed by madness.

“I find the process of elimination often helps,” Darth Adekos said, turning on a heel to face her once again. “Are you familiar with Darth Vectivus?”

He took up his rather pompous dueling stance. One arm held behind him, fist clenched into the small of his back. With his other arm, he held the lightsaber upwards, just before his face, and then swept down.

The Makashi salute. A formal practice, from a more civilized age.

“He mastered the Dark Side quietly, simply, and alone. And then he used his newfound powers to gain an edge in his business dealings. Uninspired, I know, but he leveraged that success as it suited him, not to pursue an ancient and irrelevant vendetta.”

Adekos was perhaps referring to the Sith predilection to destroying the Jedi. But he paused there, and raised an eyebrow on noticing the gold trim of Evelynn's attire. Very fancy. Adekos made no comment, which was basically the same as approval.

He continued, “Vectivus spent the rest of his life in well-earned comfort. He indulged in philanthropy, donated vast sums to the arts and sciences. When he expired, he did so of natural causes. Peacefully – surrounded by dear friends and beloved family. How does that sound to you?”

Among many Sith, Vectivus was reviled for his lack of ambition. But for quite some time, his legacy among a small pocket of the galaxy had been a respectable one.

Minus a few ruthless streaks, of course.

---

Beatrice Govan​

 

[Beatrice Govan]

As the woman listened to Darth Adekos she readied herself, unclipping her own lightsaber from her belt and igniting the blade, which decidedly did not upset convention by being crimson in nature. If she hadn't felt out of her depth already, then the stance that the Sith across from her took gave her chills of true incompetence.

In their wretched partnership of the past Nemene had been the duellist and Evelynn the sorcerer. That was the trouble with depending on others, you filled the void of your weakness with the strength of others.

The thought of her inadequacies being on display for the Sith Lord to see filled her with a very human sense of dread, but ultimately no being was born skilled. To succeed there had to be trial and error, even if it was an emotionally painful process.

It sounds like a fantasy.

The life of Darth Vectivus held great appeal, Evelynn could not deny that. Self-interest above all, and shutting out the absolute nonsense that the rest of the galaxy served on a daily basis. Questionable in a sense of greater ambition but what was the point in such isolated purpose if one was open to the opinion of others? Yes, others.

Dear friends and beloved family are concepts that elude me for starters.

Seemed like nitpicking of semantics, and it was.

Holding her lightsaber in her dominant hand, the prosthetic she frowned. It made sense to utilise the strength of the alchemical limb but in the same breath had they just not been discussing the notion of casting aside the stifling gifts of others? So she switched to her weaker left, holding the blade out in precarious fashion like a true novice duellist.

In truth, I can respect such a lifestyle. It certainly sounds appealing, but I fear that it does not quite fit me and that I would grow listless in such pursuits.

An awkward expression, as she felt herself growing ever unhelpful, like a lost teenager at the career fair.

Far preferable to pursuing ancient and irrelevant vendettas, however.

Caulder Dune

 

[Caulder Dune]

He observed with a raised eyebrow as Evelynn swapped the lightsaber from one hand to another. A bold move, but a welcome one. It was nice to see his advice be heeded every now and again.

Adekos moved in. Not quite the blur of frenzied motion many other Sith fancied themselves. He was more deliberate, each step was a careful calculation.

“Of course. You are still young, in a relative manner of speaking,” he said.

Two quick jabs forward – one left, and one right. Neither were aimed at Evelynn directly, but her lightsaber. Blade scraped blade, and it made the sparking, whining noises they were both doubtlessly familiar with.

There was no follow-up to either strike. Adekos was testing her guard.

“How do you imagine you will feel in twenty years? Forty?”

He lunged again, again scraping her lightsaber. This time, however, he did not pull away again. Adekos twisted his blade down and away, attempting to use the circular motion to wedge Evelynn’s lightsaber out of her hand.

A reliable disarming technique, if a bit dated. But that was the whole of Makashi for you: dated.

There was, again, no follow-up. Except for his monotonous speaking. “Priorities change with time. Vectivus was an unremarkable worker for many years before becoming a Sith. He knew that, at the very least, he did not want to spend his entire life laboring away.”

Material satisfaction was a lot harder to come by than the spiritual satisfaction touted by Jedi. But if there was ever a lesson to take from the tale of Darth Vectivus, it was that you didn’t need to be an ascetic warrior monk to find contentment.

You could indulge in all the pleasures you wanted. And then die. Peacefully.

“Perhaps you’re more familiar with Darth Caedus, then,” he said, giving his lightsaber a slow, meandering twirl. “Caedus sought the power of the Dark Side in the hopes of bringing stability to a fractious galaxy; a reformer hoping to serve a common good. Do you fancy yourself a champion of the people? Wringing political order from anarchic chaos?”

---

Beatrice Govan​

 

[Beatrice Govan]

As he continued to speak the woman wasn't quite sure where to look, the hallmark of a novice. Was it his feet? His hands? His lightsaber? Evelynn settled focusing upon the latter as he advanced, his blade testing hers as she made her best attempts to parry the testing blows.

Before she had a chance to respond to his question, Adekos' advanced again, managing to easily disarm the Emperor's daughter with his fine-tuned technique, her lightsaber hilt sent clattering to the ground. She couldn't help but frown, feeling all the more incapable as a Sith, but these things were to be expected.

Alive, I do hope, she finally responded, embracing the pessimistic reality that was her life. They had both made reference to her future but it was very bold in the first place to assume that such a thing existed.

Using the Force to retrieve her hilt, Evelynn reignited her blade and once more assumed a stance, left hand holding the red blade out as the foot on the same side led, her petite frame sideways rather than square on. There was a growing suspicion that this would soon feel like a very familiar act.

Practice. Practice. Practice.

In truth, she envied Darth Vectivus. To clearly know what you desire and to achieve it? How many Sith could truly say that they have done the same? She would require greater considerations, while it seemed as if she had rejected such a path, the blonde was merely taking into account the possibility of differing paths.

Such as Darth Caedus.

Or rather, not.

Evelynn's eyebrow leapt upwards before the woman began to laugh, emitting a more natural sound that did not require the use of a tongue, although the mirth was somewhat raspy from sheer vocal disuse.

Absolutely not, she swiftly replied in her telepathic tones (that had somewhat softened in frigid nature) whilst physical laughter simmered down to a mere titter, I was torn apart by people, and while they held just reason I can't quite stomach the thought of being their champion.

Dorn nodded, indicating that she was ready to try again.

I care little for the galaxy as a whole, it seems that it will always succumb to chaos and that is what I wish to so desperately avoid. My ambition is reserved for myself, and myself alone.

Caulder Dune

 

[Caulder Dune]

Evelynn recovered her blade, and took her stance back up without complaint. Without complaint as it pertained to being disarmed, that is. What she did complain about was people – specifically the ones who had torn her apart.

Not without good reason, as she acknowledged herself. But it still put a dampener on the humanitarian angle, even if Adekos respectfully disagreed.

“How very closed-minded,” he replied, sniffing disdainfully.

‘Respectfully’ might have been the wrong word.

He advanced on her again. A few light jabs, testing her guard again. And then a lunge, followed by a flick of his wrist. A zap on the shoulder, and then the chin – if Evelynn weren’t careful.

It wasn’t as if she were using her mouth anyway.

Unlike her opponent. “Then maybe you’ll be a fan of Dekta Amon of the Lost Tribe. He was an artist, a craftsman. One who channeled the Dark Side into creative pursuits.”

There were only so many angles a Sith could approach their existence from. The fact that Adekos was now invoking an obscure hoversled artisan from thousands of years ago could be taken as a bad sign as to how many were remaining.

“You won’t find any statues of him in Ravelin, but his contributions to the artistic tradition of the Sith – however neglected by our contemporaries – are still studied to this day.”

He resumed a neutral waiting stance, blade pointed down at the floor.

“Besides, I’m told sculpting and painting can be quite therapeutic. Which would be great for you.”

---

Beatrice Govan​

 

[Beatrice Govan]

As much as it might have made the experience smoother, Evelynn couldn't just agree with Adekos for the sake of being pleasant. She had come here with her development and education in mind, not to be a hapless 'yes woman' for yet another Master. Disagreements were to be expected, but of course, the blonde wasn't so narrow that every idea she held was set in stone.

Perhaps in time I can forgive the people, she responded with a musing tone, a statement that was moderately light-hearted in nature, and perhaps they may even forgive me.

Short-memories and all, and really, beyond the set number of escaped slaves who truly remembered Nemene Talith and Evelynn Dorn? Realistically, the people probably didn't know who she was, although a certain surname held enough for them to have a grim idea. Very unfortunate public relations, that.

He advanced once more, and her focus once more returned to his blade rather than his mouth, not that it seemed to help. The lack of dexterity in her left hand was once more left looking inept (as it was), as the lightsaber easily skipped past her guard and bit both shoulder and chin in quick succession. The physical discomfort wasn't much of a bother, but the frustration was. Eyes could see and follow the movements but the dire coordination of her weaker hand could not react in kind. These things took time, no point in getting discouraged right at the start.

Eyebrows knitted as Evelynn's mind remained entirely lost upon the existence of Dekta Amon. This really was the realm of the obscure. A Sith artist? The concept itself felt like a novelty when stood next to peers of conquest and wealth.

She let the last sting of his words settle for a moment before once again assuming her defensive stance, working upon the assumption that they would keep doing this until some form of success was garnered.

Perhaps I was too hasty in my judgement of Darth Vectivus. His path certainly sounds more appealing when stood alongside others.

Yes, quietly furthering one's own ambition, security and status amidst the chaos. Perhaps it really was the shoe? There was only one way to find out if it fit. The woman hadn't come here to murder Darth Adekos with indecision, after all.

Or maybe all that I need is indeed a chaise longue and an expensive shrink, do you know of any?

Dorn's tone may have been in moderate jest, but it was evident that the woman was genuinely considering the avenue of some form of therapy. Sometimes all you really need to do is tell a stranger all about your father...

Caulder Dune

 

[Caulder Dune]

“Bold of you to assume they’ll remember you in the first place,” he dryly intoned. “Just use your dominant hand already. You’re not going to learn anything like this.”

You make a deal with Maliphant, you might as well use the tools you’ve won.

As if to emphasize this point, he came back in with a heavy, horizontal slash – aimed directly for the blade of her lightsaber. It was an attempt to disarm her, again, although now with an uncharacteristic brute force.

He sighed, an airy and resigned sound, and drew back after he’d delivered the blow.

People always circled back to Vectivus whenever Dekta Amon came up. Sith were willing to do anything and everything for a shot at personal satisfaction – except go to art school, apparently. This one even wanted a shrink.

“Try Denon. Southern hemisphere. Those ‘shrinks’ will see anyone,” Adekos replied.

And after a short, scowling pause, he added: “Not that I would know. Obviously.”

---

Beatrice Govan​

 

[Beatrice Govan]

Such frustration was to be expected, unfortunately, when the irritation and lack of patience came from the teacher's end it was a sign that they would soon give up upon the student. That thought gave cause for the woman to inwardly wince.

He came in again, although this time with heavier movement it was easier to react but instead of trying to parry the blow with her lightsaber, instinct dictated that her prosthetic arm blocked instead. The arm was, of course, lightsaber resistant (as was everybody and their cat these days), although given the low power setting it wouldn't have mattered if she had used flesh to block it either.

No, you're right. I don't think they would, she replied stiffly, flexing the fingers of the skeleton key, they would simply see my father instead.

Hardly a preferable view for the masses to take.

Obviously.

Evelynn swiftly discarded the notion of shrinks and therapists to the depths of pipe dreams. Perhaps having somebody to confide in that wasn't a malevolent force would have proven helpful for her mental health. However, Dorn had not come here to learn how to be a stable human being.

More's the pity.

I'd like to keep trying with my left, My Lord, she attempted to reason, still holding out her lightsaber, I do apologise for my lack of combat prowess, I used to have a Talith for that. My school of knowledge was entirely held within the Force.

Her nose crinkled as if an unpleasant smell had just wafted into her general direction.

My own failing, I realise but I cannot give up. This arm, I imagine, she said holding up the glinting prosthetic, will be what my opponents focus upon. They will seek to disable or destroy it, and I need to be ready for that eventuality.

Caulder Dune