Administrator
Wearing: This [THANK YOU VERY MUCH NESSA - THIS OUTFIT SCREAMS STAB ME IN THE KIDNEY]
Once upon a time the moon-lit Sith Apprentice had loved spending time outdoors. As a girl, she had run with her siblings through the forested areas of Eshan, training, playing, and poking at each other with practice swords. They were not made of wood. Just slightly dulled. Still sharp, to teach them respect, but tempered enough to keep them from outright losing a limb. Now, everything that she had loved about fresh air, bright colors, and vibrant nature seemed to deaden her.
She was suspicious of the peace. Resentful of the quiet—Mistrustful of the way the water seemed to shine.
Srina could feel [member="Var Talon"], [member="Cyprine Talon"], and [member="Nysana Talon"] nearby. It brought her some modicum of harmony and balance. The fact that at least three of her blood were alive, safe, though not necessarily happy with their current existence made her selfishly feel a little better. It was wrong for her to feel joy when Nysana only felt pain. It was shameful of her to take reassurance in the sound of Cyprine’s voice when she had been forced to leave Eshan after attempting to shoulder the burden that her elders should have dealt with. Var…Var was her hope. Her light. Her little brother that she could always protect and keep safe.
Except, that he wasn’t. He had chosen the Knights Obsidian. It would lead him into more danger than she knew she could actively anticipate. He would get hurt.
Eventually, she might not be able to save him.
The thought chilled her to the core. She hadn’t been able to save anyone she loved, thus fair, and had even managed to fail those close to her. Repeatedly.
She walked in silence along the dirt path beside her Master. Keen ears recognized the sounds of others having a blissful, drunken time, while the white-haired Apprenticed mostly wanted to return to Ryloth. She wanted to go back to the Well. The Echani warrior wanted to study the holocron of Darth Caedus and learn all that she needed to in order to bring justice to those that wronged the people nearest to her.
Worse than anything else that had happened in the last few months, was the awful, dreadful, ensemble that [member="Scherezade deWinter"] had forced her into. It was pink. Pink, the color of undercooked bantha steaks, flowered, and mostly translucent. It had a full and flowy multicolored skirt made out of strips of gauzy fabric. In essence, she was half-naked, wearing a horrifying shade of rancor vomit. Sparkly, ruffled, and with a sky-high slit that left little to the imagination. Whatever grave the deWinter brat had dug this decidedly itchy monstrosity from was likely to have a new visitor.
Extremely cranky, the timeless woman, elegant in all things bore her debt off with as much dignity as she could muster. Srina did not like pink. She did not like sewn on flowers. She did not like the beads that had been clipped into her hair. Bless the earth, Scherezade said. It’ll be fine, she said. It was not fine.
The reason for this all too girlish and cute appearance was because of a bet Srina had lost. The circumstances would never be discussed. It had become that, which would not be named, and despite Scherezade’s gloating even she kept quiet about it. Next time, Srina, would win. She had no doubt in her mind that the brat had cheated. She just couldn’t prove it. Yet.
Not too far from them, a starfighter landed. It wasn’t terribly large but Srina did not recognize it as one of their Storm Fleet. The man made his way toward them and her expression flattered from her pensive deliberation. Srina Talon looked less like the warrior she was and more like a spite freshly released from a fantasy realm that younglings could only dream of. Her only saving grace was the fact that they were there to celebrate and explore, versus fight, and the fact that she was wearing a pair of tan colored reinforced boots to protect her feet.
The slender Echani slid her arm through the right arm of [member="Darth Metus"] and tugged him toward the stranger [[member="Gene Kenobi"]]. Srina’s silver eyes were nearly incapable of missing the fact that he was not one of theirs and she was glad to have the Vicelord at her side. He was a brightness to their dark. One would think that his presence would be a thought of peace—but that was not always the case. Those that walked in the light were just as capable of heinous acts as anyone else.
It was only the justification that seemed to be judged. History was told by the victors after all.
“Greetings. I am Srina Talon. This is the Vicelord of the Confederacy…”, she trailed off softly, her voice naturally honeyed, however unintentionally colder than ice. It was not a threat, nor was it intentional. It was simply her way. Mercurial eyes flickered over him again. Jedi. In every sense of the word. “Forgive me. I do not know your face.”
