Faction In Memoria

[Darth Malum of House Marr]

As she emerged out into the moonlit alcove of the balcony, she would find herself alone, all but for the icy cold winds that continued to assault her form, a dress that was made to befit a roaring fire was hard-pressed to protect her from the elements, with so much of her skin exposed. If she gazed around, the most surprising detail would be just... how abandoned the area was, despite the inviting heat of the ballroom, it was surprising that there was seemingly no one who had sought the privacy and quiet of the outside, no couples who might have allowed propriety to fail them in the throes of heart and desire.

And of course perhaps the most important to the young acolyte, the figure who had stolen her hands for the last few minutes was far from sight.

"And what of the hierarchy do you understand, Lady Castor?" A voice emerged out from within her skull, clear and crisp on the tongue, yet entirely unnatural in pitch and tone familiar enough from the masked man she spoke to, yet still... different. More thought than spoken, a voice that simultaneously rang in her ears from all directions, while too coming from nowhere.

"Obscurity is safe, yet, so is cowardice, so is cravenness, are you either, Lady Castor?" The second time her name was used, there was a bite to the name both times it was spoken, "Is it with obscurity that you will achieve what you desire? Then of desire, what is it you desire?" The voice continued on, bombarded out from different directions, however, ever still.

"You ask how you will be useful to the Viper, and such is an intelligent question to ask, but it is beyond him, and can only be answered with a question of its own."

A shape burned in her mind's eye, a painted black shape of two diamonds linked together with wings on either side pointing to the heavens, all surrounded by a snake consuming its own tail.

​

"What do you know of the Tsis'Kaar?"

Adean Castor

​

 

[Adean Castor]

TAG: Darth Malum of House Marr

WEARING: x | x

The chill of the outside was nothing compared to the frigid cold of her veins as Adean stepped out onto an empty balcony. Be it a trap, a test, or a needlessly elaborate way to be stood up, she hadn't quite anticipated the alluring invitation of conversation to end so abruptly. A hand smoothed down the creases of her dress, no doubt verifying the presence of a small dagger she'd tucked away amongst the fabric.

Panic, kept in check by sheer force of will, surged through her as the voice in the back of her skull continued. How did it know that name? She'd been meticulous in her deception, her paper trail bearing the name of Brassius Zambrano ever since the borrowed name had been locked in, before she'd reached Jutrand. It'd been month's since she'd even heard that name spoken allowed. There had to have been a slip-up somewhere but where? "I surely don't know who you're referring to, though I'm quite curious where you might've gathered that name," the evenness in her voice was paper-thin.

Words that were once measured by the context of a courtly ball took on a different tone. Tense, analytical, expecting a twisted meaning or trap with each syllable. "Obscurity is only cowardice if one does nothing with it, Lord Malum," she answered carefully. As for what she wanted, well, that was a difficult question now wasn't it? What she wanted, truly wanted, had never been something she could admit freely among the Sith. Being a Sith, a Jedi, really anyone of real consequence hadn't been on her list of wants. She'd simply wanted to be. But at this point, could she even go back if given the chance? And was that what she actually wanted anymore?

"The Sith code speaks of chains being broken. I strive to find that reality, albeit on my own terms." Maybe without the suffering, without the rage, if she could help it. Freedom to go where she pleased, confidence to hold her own with little need to do so. And, perhaps least likely of all, not to be ruled by anxiety.

The image that burned itself in her skull was not entirely unfamiliar. An emblem that had popped up in her late-night studies, the desperate attempts to play catch up as a civilian fed to the wolves of the academy. She wracked her brain for the specifics, finding only vague definitions. "A secretive group...intelligence-based..." Oh. The pieces were coming together. And while Adean couldn't remember more of the group, those details alone meant alarming implications if they had clocked her deception.

 

[Darth Malum of House Marr]

A gust of wind blew behind her back, as if a presence had run past her, "What name, Lady Fields?" The voice continued, utterly innocent in tone, yet the tinge of coyness was impossible to entirely conceal. A voice felt rather than heard, it was the way of madness that was ever so common amongst Sith, yet, usually amongst the old.

Never for ones quite so young, after all, she was not yet mad.

"And so tell me, what is it that you do with it, Lady Fields?" The air brushed her cheek, with the same gentleness as a lover's caress, if the voice noticed any of the subtle changes in her mannerisms and movements, it hardly seemed to warrant a mention. The air came to a halt at the continuation of her words, for a windy moonlit night, it was... unnatural.

"And what terms are those, how will you break your chains?" It was the first time since they had entered the balcony that the voice was truly heard, in front of her nothing more than the bannisters that overlooked the environs below, yet even not seen, a presence was ever felt.

"You have heard of us," The whisper continued, its direction multidirectional, as the wind gently pressed from different directions, "...Yet, know so little it seems," Ever onward, the sound of steps filled the balcony's ways, circling the woman, as if prey to be slaughtered, "What would you say," The voice rested only mere inches from her face, while still around her there was nothing but emptiness, "If we broke your chains?"

Adean Castor