Private Feast Of The Mind

[Leven Jeyd]

D I S C O V E R Y​

TAG: Oleander Webb

Kathol Outback - Pembric II
Outskirts of the Old City, Nightfall

The air on Pembric II was thick with the smell of decay. Not the sharp, pungent stench of recent death, but the deeper, more cloying scent of rot that had seeped into the very bones of the planet. It was a place where the light of the twin moons barely pierced the gloom, their pale, sickly glow casting long, warped shadows across the ruined architecture that had once stood proud. Now, the Old City was a crumbling husk, a labyrinth of collapsed towers and overgrown alleys, haunted by the echoes of the past and the whispers of those who still clung to life here.

Leven Jeyd moved through the ruins like a wraith, her form shifting subtly with each step, melding with the darkness. Her sharp eyes took in the details of her surroundings—cracked stone, twisted metal, the occasional glint of something reflective in the debris. Her senses were heightened, attuned to the faintest ripple in the Force, alert for any sign of the creature she sought.

The stories she had heard were vague, mere rumors passed in the hushed tones of frightened locals. A monster, they said, that fed on the brains of the living, leaving nothing but empty husks in its wake. Some spoke of mind control, of victims who turned on their loved ones without warning, their wills no longer their own. It was this last detail that had piqued Leven's interest. In a galaxy teeming with predators and monstrosities, this one stood out, for it echoed something familiar—something that might be akin to her own nature.

She had been called many things in her life, but "monster" was one she had always found amusing. The galaxy feared what it did not understand, and she was far beyond its understanding. But if this creature was truly what they said it was, then perhaps it was not so different from her. Perhaps it was kin.

The thought of it stirred something deep within her, a mix of curiosity and something darker—a predatory instinct that had driven her here. She wanted to find this creature, to see it for herself, to know if it was truly one of her kind. And if it was… well, the galaxy had a way of thinning out its own herds. Or perhaps, she could learn a thing or two.

The city fell away behind her as she approached the outskirts, where the ruins gave way to dense, twisted bogs that had reclaimed what civilization had lost. The trees here were ancient, their gnarled roots weaving through the crumbling stone and the murk like the fingers of a forgotten giant. The air grew colder, and the silence deeper, broken only by the occasional rustle of leaves or the distant call of some nocturnal predator.

Leven paused at the edge, her breath misting in the chill. She could feel it now, the subtle pull of something ancient and hungry, something that resonated with the dark core of her being. She let herself savor the sensation for a moment, closing her eyes and letting the darkness wash over her, feeling the thrill of the hunt stirring in her blood.

This was why she had come here—to find this creature, to confront it, and to see what it truly was. Perhaps it would be an ally, perhaps a rival, or perhaps just another meal. Whatever it was, Leven would not leave this world without knowing.

With a final glance back at the decaying city, she stepped into the shadows of the forest, her form shifting once more to blend with the gloom. The hunt had begun, and Leven Jeyd was not one to leave her prey to its own devices for long.
​

 

[Oleander Webb]

TAG: Leven Jeyd

There was a certain charm to ruins. Oleander couldn't quite put a name to it. Logistically, they had no use to him - a feeding ground was only as good as it's prey and this one had all but ran dry.

And yet, this one hasn't quite lost its draw. The Avatar of Death hadn't thought himself a sentimental individual and yet he couldn't deny the call of melancholy that rang out from the city that was no more. And the forest beyond.

It was a place to reflect, to heighten his senses. The more populated systems were rich for choice of meal, perhaps too rich. And so, Death sought an area where he could well and truly hunt for his next meal.

He was roused from his meditative state by a blip on the edge of his senses, nostrils flaring as he considered the possibilities. Perhaps a kind and bright soul, seeking to breathe life back into the decrepit city? Or a terrible one bent on subjugation? No, both thoughts seemed a bit too simple. The flavor that tantalized his senses, as undefined and far away as it was, was more complex.

The Anzat opened his eyes, the grey orbs scanning his immediate area, squinting in consideration of both the hazy world around him and in consideration of what his senses picked up. A glimmer of curiosity sparked an ember in his belly. Perhaps it wouldn't be too long before his next meal.

 

[Leven Jeyd]

D I S C O V E R Y​

TAG: Oleander Webb

Leven’s footsteps were soundless as she moved deeper into the shadowed forest, her body blending with the darkness. The air grew colder, each breath crystallizing in the night as she stalked the unseen prey. Her senses were aflame with anticipation, the thrill of the hunt coursing through her veins. She was no longer just Leven Jeyd, the schemer and the strategist, but a predator on the prowl, driven by an instinct as old as time.

The trees loomed taller here, their skeletal branches clawing at the sky like the talons of some forgotten beast. The bog beneath her feet was soft, treacherous, pulling at her with each step, as if the very earth sought to drag her down into its depths. But she was light and nimble, her movements fluid and deliberate. She could feel the presence ahead, a flicker in the dark, an echo that pulsed with an unnatural life force.

Leven’s lips curled into a faint smile. There it was—the unmistakable signature of a mind unlike any other, one that could rival her own. It was close now, close enough for her to taste its presence in the air, like a fine wine on her tongue. She let the sensation wash over her, reveling in it. It wasn’t merely hunger that drove her, but curiosity, a desire to understand the nature of this creature that could be so much like her. Or perhaps, more accurately, the nature of this creature that dared to be like her.

She reached out with her mind, a delicate tendril of thought slipping through the darkness like a serpent through tall grass. It was a probing touch, light and curious, brushing against the edge of the consciousness she sensed ahead. The response shw would find was immediate—sharp, like a blade flashing in the dark. Interesting.

“Not so different after all, are we?” she whispered to herself, her voice barely more than a breath on the wind. Her smile widened, her excitement growing. This was no mindless beast. It was aware, intelligent, and wary. She could respect that.

As she moved closer, the shadows seemed to deepen around her, the night growing thicker with each step. She could feel the weight of the darkness pressing in, as if the forest itself was watching, waiting to see who would emerge victorious in this battle of wills. She paused, considering her next move. A direct approach would be foolish; this creature would not be easily tricked or cornered. No, she would need to draw it out, to lure it into revealing itself.

She reached out again, this time with a different touch—more insistent, more commanding. A lure, a challenge, a dare. She let her presence flare for just a moment, bright and tantalizing, a beacon in the dark. “Come out, come out, wherever you are,” she thought, a soft, almost playful taunt.

Then she slipped back into the shadows, her form shifting, blending with the darkness once more. She was a ghost, a whisper, a phantom in the night. She would let the creature make the next move, let it come to her, and when it did, she would be ready.

For now, she would wait. The game had just begun, and Leven Jeyd had learned the art of patience - when it suited her.

​

 

[Oleander Webb]

TAG: Leven Jeyd

A shiver ran down Oleander's spine as he felt the other's consciousness brush against his, curious. It was quite seldom another had the penchant for mentalism or the gall to use it on him. A kindred soul, perhaps. Or, even better, a veritable feast.

He rose from his resting position, a line of gentle pops ran up his vertebrae as he stretched. As he stretched physically, he did the same mentally, reaching out to get a better idea of his unexpected visitor. They drew closer to his position...and then they stopped, how very odd. Though, perhaps not so odd as one would think. For a hunter of a similar nature, one untouched by time and with little to no threats beyond their own kind, it made sense. There was no need to rush an inevitability.

And Death was inevitable, its avatar only breathing a sigh as he recognized a tactic of his own using. More often than not, it was he who lay in wait, letting others make the first move. In this instance, however, it wouldn't do for both hunters to wait each other out, as comical as that may be to some.

Another mental caress bade him pause, the mental challenge ringing in his skull. You should be careful what you wish for, he responded in kind, senses locking in on the beacon given before it faded back into the mists of sensation. No doubt, it was a trap, but it had served its purpose. Oleander was curious, maybe even amused, at the idea that someone would seek to entrap him. It'd happened before, sure, but that was a lifetime ago, before Death itself was made to manifest in him.

The Waking Nightmare was silent as he tread the forest floors. He inhaled deeply as he drew closer to where the beacon had been set. Under his skin, his proboscises twitched as they sought out the delectable soup they so craved. But he didn't push his senses, as much as instinct begged him to single out the hidden voice and add them to the silent ones. They'd sent the invitation, it was only fitting he let them think they had the hidden advantage.
Well, now, here I stand. What shall you do now?

 

[Leven Jeyd]

D I S C O V E R Y​

TAG: Oleander Webb

Leven's eyes narrowed as she felt the presence draw closer, the creature's consciousness brushing against hers in response to her challenge. It was bold, perhaps even arrogant, to respond so openly, and yet she found herself smiling at her own audacity. Here was a creature that was not only aware of the game but willing to play it on her terms—at least for now.

The forest around her seemed to hold its breath as Oleander approached, the very air charged with anticipation. Leven could sense the subtle shifts in the atmosphere, the way the shadows seemed to lengthen and the darkness deepened with each step he took. He was close now, close enough that she could almost feel the weight of his presence pressing against her skin. She did not flinch. Instead, she let the sensation wash over her, savoring it like a beast tasting the air before the kill.

The voice that reached her mind was smooth, a whisper of warning wrapped in a velvet glove. You should be careful what you wish for. A thrill ran through her at the words, a mix of excitement and a darker, more primal emotion. She had always enjoyed a good challenge, and this one promised to be more than just another game. This creature was dangerous, that much was clear, but she had faced danger before.

She could sense him now, the subtle ripple of his thoughts brushing against the edges of her consciousness. He was close, almost close enough to touch, but he held back, his presence lingering just beyond her reach. He was waiting, just as she was, both of them poised on the edge of action, each waiting for the other to make the first move.

Leven allowed herself a moment of stillness, letting the tension build, the silence stretch between them like a taut string ready to snap. Then, slowly, she began to move, her steps light and soundless as she circled the area where she knew he stood. She kept her form blurred, her features indistinct, a shadow within shadows, moving with a grace that was almost otherworldly. She wanted to see him, to study him, to understand what kind of creature could match her in both cunning and hunger.

He was closer now, a silhouette amidst the trees, his outline just visible in the dim light filtering through the canopy. Leven could make out the subtle movements of his body, the way he seemed to flow with the shadows, his presence an extension of the darkness itself. There was something almost... familiar about it, and yet alien too. She felt a pull, a strange resonance between them that went beyond mere curiosity.

She decided to engage him, not with a fight, but with something more. A game of words, perhaps, or a dance of minds. She let her form shift slightly, her silhouette becoming more defined, her presence more tangible in the dark. She did not move closer, but her voice reached out to him, soft and low, like a whisper carried on the wind.

"There you are, and here I am." she announced, her tone neither threatening nor fearful, but filled with genuine curiosity.

"Are you like me?" The question flew freely, and her very essence extended, open, the shores of her mind as well, ready to be perused - if he allowed the same in kind. "Do you hunger as I do? For more than just sustenance?"

She wanted to see his reaction, to gauge his understanding. To know if he was a kindred spirit or something entirely different. And perhaps, in that understanding, she might find something more—an answer to the question that had driven her here, to this dark and forgotten place.

She waited, her eyes locked on him, her senses attuned to his every move. Not to strike, but to learn. To discover what lay beneath the surface of this enigmatic creature who had dared to answer her call. Who felt so similar, in ways more than one.

​

 

[Oleander Webb]

TAG: Leven Jeyd

He sensed her before he saw the silhouette, undefined and fuzzy as it were. A part of him wondered if she had means of obscuring herself or if perhaps his vision had truly deteriorated beyond what was acceptable. Another, more pertinent part of him didn't care. Vision was a tertiary sense for the hunter, useful but hardly required. Her presence was evident enough in his attuned senses. A shadow, yet not creeping as one would expect. There was an energy to the shadow, not unlike a feline eyeing a moving target.

Oleander remained still as stone, conserving his energy under the scrutiny. If she thought such a display (or rather, lack thereof) was an indicator of slowness, he was more than happy to let the assumption prevail. While his body remained still, his mind was keen, making careful note of the surroundings and the individual circling him.

There was a familiarity in her presence he'd be a fool to recognize. Not that of personal recognition, but hunter acknowledging hunter. Her mind swirled with a darkness not unlike his own. Different, distinctly so, but similar. Beyond the homeworld, encountering another of his kind was a rarity. Solitude suited the Anzat well, lest the hunting ground grow sparse. In such an already deserted area, Oleander wondered just how quickly any kinship would turn to competition.

Her form seemed to darken in his fuzzy vision, the specifics of the change lost from the distance and shadow. His head tilted a fraction, acknowledging her words. "There are none like me," he responded, voice a near-perfect middle ground between tenor and base, just loud enough to carry. He could feel her mind open to him, the instinctual pull of curiosity beckoning. But with the invitation came the expectation it would be returned in kind. That Oleander wasn't ready for, not fully, not until he completely placed this creature who'd sought him out.

That didn't mean he couldn't indulge her curiosity, at least a tad. The gates of his mind opened a fraction, letting the other poke and prod at the surface. All the while, the deeper, more complex aspects of himself, of Death, remained sequestered away. "My hunger is my own. Yet with each addition to the Silent Voices, I transcend the hunger of the waking world. And what of you, little shadow. What more do you hunger for?"

 

[Leven Jeyd]

D I S C O V E R Y​

TAG: Oleander Webb

Leven's smile widened as Oleander's voice reached her ears, a low, resonant note that seemed to echo through the stillness of the forest. "There are none like me," he said, and she felt a flicker of amusement ripple through her. A bold claim, one she might have made herself once. Yet, here they were, shadows dancing in the darkness, each drawn to the other by a recognition that went beyond mere sight or sound. It was a meeting of instincts, a convergence of paths that could only lead to one outcome.

But what outcome was that? She pondered this as she continued to circle him, her movements slow and deliberate, each step a calculated measure. Oleander was different, that much was clear. He was not like the others she had hunted or consumed. His presence was too... familiar. Too much like her own.

His mind opened to her just a crack, a sliver of light through a tightly drawn curtain, and she felt the allure of it. She could sense the depths beyond, the secrets hidden away, just out of reach. He was cautious, holding back, and she respected that. It was wise to be wary, especially in the presence of each other.

Yet, he had given her something—enough to whet her appetite, to make her want more. His words hung in the air between them, a riddle wrapped in shadow, and she considered them carefully. "My hunger is my own," he had said. A careful answer, one that revealed little and yet spoke volumes. He was guarding himself, as she was, playing the game with a subtlety that matched her own.

Leven paused, letting the question linger in the space between them, her gaze fixed on the spot where she knew he stood, hidden among the shadows. She could sense his curiosity, his desire to understand her just as she sought to understand him. It was a mutual fascination, so she thought, a dance of minds and souls that went beyond the physical.

"What do I hunger for?" she echoed softly, her voice barely more than a whisper on the wind. "For everything I am, and everything I'm not, and many other things in between. But now? For understanding." Her tone was contemplative, thoughtful, as if she were considering each word carefully before releasing it into the darkness.

She moved closer, her form becoming more distinct in the faint light, though still cloaked in shadow. She wanted him to see her, to know that she was not afraid. That she was willing to meet him on equal ground. "You speak of the Silent Voices," she continued, her eyes narrowing slightly as she studied him. "Is that what you call those you consume? Do they speak to you still, even after you have taken them?"

There was no malice in her voice, only curiosity—a genuine desire to understand what kind of creature he was. If he was like her, if he shared her nature, or if he was something else entirely. She wanted to know if there was a kinship between them, a bond that went beyond mere hunger. Or if they were destined to be rivals, two predators locked in an eternal dance of death.

She let her thoughts brush against his once more, a gentle caress, a subtle invitation. "I've never met one of my kind," she mused, her voice soft and almost melodic. "And yet you are also hunter, seeker, and something more. Perhaps there is much we could learn from one another... if we choose not to make this place our battlefield."

Her form grew clearer still, her silhouette sharp against the darkness, as if daring him to come closer, to see her as she showed herself, and only for a second, as a crack of lightning lit up the skies, as she truly was. "Shall we speak, then?" she offered, her tone light, almost playful. "Or shall we continue to dance around one another?"

The challenge was there, unspoken but understood. She wanted to see what he would do, how he would respond. If he would accept her offer of parley or not. Either way, she would be ready.

​