In the Forest, Dark and Deep

[Zahra Arcturus]

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Miranda - Dead Hollow | [member=Darth Prazutis]​

Dead Hollow lived up to its name. Where there was once believed to be a forest teeming with greenery and light, there now lay a barren wasteland with earth so sour it had turned grey. The only proof that it had ever seen life at all were husks of once great trees and the disintegrating fragments of bone, eternally fossilised in blanket of stone. Even the people of Miranda seemed to fear the forest surrounded by death. They whispered of a horror that ruled in the night, of a terror that lived in the shadows under beds, of a monster that turned dreams into nightmares. The only people foolish enough to go there were those delivering the dead, and those desperate enough to seek what lay hidden in its depths.

For there, in the heart of Miranda's makeshift graveyard, in structure of rotting wood forgotten by all but time, the Mother of Nightmares made her home. Hidden well by what were once rolling hills of lush green grass, Zahra found it quite suited her needs. Save for the souls who's spirits were trapped in the forest, none disturbed her. It was here she had honed her skills of dream weaving, here that she had first began to collect her precious memories, here that she had found an immortal bond with the darkness that fuelled her every move.

She was free amongst the shrine of memories that played in an eternal loop in their prisons of glass. She had grown fond of the faint whispers they made as she passed them by, fingertips alight with a magic unknown to many others. Zahra hummed hummed their eerie tune aloud, arms swaying in time to the beat, each soft note echoing from the walls and filling the room with the sound of her haunting melody. The dainty steps of the dance she performed were perfectly crafted to carry her through the maze of jars strewn across the aged wooden floors, bare feet never once hesitating.

A sudden ripple in the force brought her dance to a pause, but it was the sheer strength of it that caused her moonlit eyes to sparkle. So powerful and wicked in its intent it made the very air around her feel thick, as though someone had clouded the room with a suffocating darkness. Delicious. A brief moment was all she allowed herself to revel in the sensation, for while the taste was sweet from where she stood, she was certain it would be sweeter if she found the source.

Whoever it was that mastered such a power had certainly caught her interest, but who was it? A customer? A traveller? Were they just unfortunate enough to get lost in Dead Hallow? Curiosity caused her head to tilt, though there was nobody around to witness it. 'Who awaits us in the forest of death?' She mused aloud to the jars on the nearest shelf, pale skin bathed in their iridescent glow. The raven haired witch did not wait for an answer, for she knew none would come. Instead, she gingerly picked her way back across her collection to greet the visiting darkness.

As she wove idly down the corridors toward the front doors, the Mother of Nightmares allowed her own power to seep from her skin. An ethereal shadow of terror that wound playfully around the dominant force filling her hovel to bursting point. Vehement in the way she endeavoured to entice it, entirely unaware that she hadn't yet the mind to comprehend it at all. Her actions weren't threatening, but exuberant and mischievous in their curiosity. It was an invitation to come and play.

Perhaps they would even stay for tea.

 

[Darth Prazutis]

Deep within the withering trees descended a hurricane.

It was a disturbance, an affront, like a gaping wound in the force. The presence was alive like a living breathing organism it churned like the high seas during a stormy night. It's very presence seemed to cast a looming shadow across the dead forests, it thinned the veil. It's very presence brought maddening whispers as it pulled at the sane and brought paranoia to the sinners. It beguiled the prideful, the ambitious, and the greedy with desires of wealth and power. The presence was unique in that it felt both of this world, and not of this world. Everything close to it was drowned like someone too far beneath the surface of the ocean. Such a disturbance came from the form of a towering giant, a Dark Titan eclipsing eight feet in height with a body that epitomized perfection. A form carved from granite, hidden beneath the surface were genetic traits cultivated from the top one percent of each species. The figures black hair was cut short while a pair of molten orbs replaced what might've been human eyes at one point.

The Lord of Lies.

He held many names: Great Deceiver, Reaper of a Thousand Worlds, The Undying, He Who Conquered Death, The Kingmaker, Render of the Veil, Devourer of Souls. A force beyond the reach of nature that ruled a vast Sith Empire as the right hand of its Sith Emperor. Darth Prazutis. In the darkness of the decaying trees he swept with the supreme confidence of a ruler, head held high like a conquering god as his eyes pierced illusions, stripped away shadow and laid bare the truth of the world he now walked in.

Mother of Nightmares.

The world of witches was a very mysterious, ancient, and secluded one. They didn't postulate, jockey for position and fight one another. Those who were notable simply were. They were an odd, unorthodox, and often isolated breed away from galactic politics. In the realm of witches one would be hard pressed to climb any higher than the Mother of Nightmares. In their world her presence was titanic, it inspired so much fear that most witches refused to ever say her name or speak about her directly for fear that they would somehow invoke her gaze, they knew better. Queen of Shadows, Eater of Dreams, Demon in the Night. The interests of the Night Mother were erratic at best, downright unpredictable at worst. Many who approached her were never seen again while the most unorthodox individuals managed to make their way out, but all were irreversibly changed by the encounter. Most never spoke again and many more fled from society only to die when their bodies gave out due to a lack of sleep. It was said that once you lay eyes on her you never truly sleep again. But the name of this mystery woman eluded him. No matter how he beguiled, mystified, or hypnotized the witches they never spoke her name. Those whose minds he rended, tore asunder and blasted into a million pieces he found the Witch Elder's name forcibly ripped from her memory.

Curiosity.

In this world knowledge was power and one so formidable the witches cowed from her very name was one that he needed to meet. Even as he approached he could feel her presence surge. Power seethed from her lithe form ahead in the woods and he could almost feel her gaze upon him, feel as she looked upon this anomaly to her wood. The presence was sickeningly sweet, both intoxicating and crushing at the same time. Not a single word need be spoken for it to achieve the same result.

I see you.

As he broke the last cropping of trees to bring the ruined hovel into view his demeanor wasn't threatening as his eyes locked into hers. Skin a milky white matched her deep white eyes, a head of raven hair draped over her shoulders. For what felt like an eternity he stood in absolute silence as he laid eyes on her form...until he spoke.

"Your reputation precedes you Mother of Nightmares."

[member="Zahra Laurs"]

 

[Zahra Arcturus]

The darkness approached, teasing her from every angle. The Mother of Nightmares found she couldn't keep herself waiting on the rotting wooden steps leading up to the house. She had to chase it.

From such a distance she could see nothing but the blurred outline of a titan. At first it was only a mere dot against the shadowed horizon, but as the two powers tangled playfully Zahra formed a picture in her mind. Taller than the once great oaks now entombed in stone, the figure stood stark even against the midnight sky. A granite shell housing a soul so dark and twisted it made her heart flutter. Taking ballerina steps on the tips of her toes across cracked marble stones, Zahra made her way through a garden plagued with death. Just as much at home there as she was in the realm of dreams, her flowing gait sent her dancing from shadow to shadow. Slender frame illuminated in the pools of moonlight that slipped through the branches of fossilised trees.

With every footfall the haze lifted from her visitors face, revealing the detail she struggled to pick out from a far. Perhaps she would have been content to remain at a distance, but the rumbling thunder of his voice pulled her closer, as though she were a puppet on strings. The only acknowledgement she gave his statement was the spark of curiosity in her milky iris.

She knew that face. Not from any mortal world, but from the rip in the realms. From the minds of those who had survived an encounter with true darkness. From the depths of fear so great even she couldn't conjure it. He was the subject of nightmares that Zahra had only mused of weaving. She had heard his name in perilous screams and terrified whispers. Some of her best work had been inspired by his odious deeds, and many a time had she sung along to the fear he imprinted on her prey. 'As does yours, Darth Prazutis.' Close enough now to count every strand of ebony hair on his head, the Mother of Nightmares craned her head up to gaze at her guest, and offer him a wicked grin.

'My, my...' Her eerie voice seemed to echo no further than the distance between them. 'What a pleasure it is to meet with you in the flesh, and an honour to be sought out by you personally.' Zahra punctuated the sentence with a smile that brought her face alive with an unfathomable passion. 'You're very much a legend in the dream realm.' Bleached white eyes began to study his appearance. His form was so familiar she could have mapped the unpredictable patterns on his skin from memory. It was truly fascinating to be face to face with the real thing. Zahra was remiss to waste the opportunity and found her feet carried her in a slow pattern that encircled the Sith Lord entirely.

'I've lost count of how many times I've fed from the fear you cause.' Zahra visibly shuddered at the very thought of how the nightmares he created sated her hunger. She chased them where she could, and happening across them was an untold delight. 'Ah...' Zahra gushed. 'The screams, the terror, the dread! So tempting, so sweet, so addictive.' Her voice raised to fever pitch, spilling over with excitement as her slender fingers curved round his tree trunk bicep. She swung from his arm, feather light as though she were made from the shadows themselves. When her raven hair came to rest once more against snow white shoulders, Zahra searched for his fire filled eyes as though she had thirsted for them for centuries.

She was met with the opportunity to drink in his power, to revel in the darkness that poured from every inch of him. To finally have the chance to stand in the aura of a soul as dark as her own was dizzying. Where it not for the thousands of questions clouding her mind she would have been unable to resist the compulsion to remain in it all day, but as it was... The Mother of Nightmares released her grip on his stone skin.

Tempting him inside was unnecessary, it was clear they shared the same thirst for understanding one another, but it was in her nature. 'Won't you join me inside?' Her soft, silky words seeped out as she stepped back toward the crumbling structure. Willow branch fingers crept out into the space between them, imploring him to follow their owner's dancing shadow. 'We have many things to talk about.'

[member=Darth Prazutis]​

 

[Darth Prazutis]

The reaction that the Mother of Nightmares gave wasn't entirely unexpected.

If the hunt to find her told him anything it proved that she was extremely dangerous and unpredictable. Such a tactic was so often employed by the Lord of Lies to throw off others be they friends, peers, rivals, adversaries etc. One of the most effective tactics was to make moves that appear to have no purpose or even seemed to work against him, if they didn't know what to expect they could never predict what he would do next. A smart move by the mysterious woman....very smart, in fact it's what he would've done in her shoes. It was a comedic sight to see the Witch Elder dance around him, gripping the huge arm of the stoic giant as she laid the praise on thick. In person she was curved, lithe, her form practically appeared fragile. Smooth skin so white it appeared as if it hadn't ever been kissed by the sun pressed against his arm. Next to the Lord of Lies with his physique he could overpower and snap her form in two. But physical attributes weren't her strong suit. The woman's presence spoke for itself, it told volumes to just how dangerous she was.

A curiosity of one another was something they both shared.

For the Shadow Hand among the countless questions he had for her was where exactly she came down. Despite their similarities and the contentious presences if she posed a threat to his or his families supremacy, she would be dealt with. But it was too yet to tell which...and he had many more questions that required answers before a conclusion could be reached. "Your brethren fear you. Your very title spoken sends ripples like waves in the ocean. Your body of work speaks for itself Queen of Shadows, the devastation you've wrought will never be forgotten. The only thing that's eluded me in pursuit of you is your name..." He said as she gripped his arm and pulled to lead him inside. The Mountain accompanied the woman as she pulled him towards her home, a ruined monument and the epicenter of this dark and twisted woodland realm. "In the realm of dreams you are without equal, unparalleled power. I've felt the impact of your darkness in the victimized souls I have taken. I am...impressed."

[member="Zahra Laurs"]

 

[Zahra Arcturus]

He flattered her as much as she flattered him. It seemed, in fact, they were both a little starry-eyed over each other. 'Aren't you the perfect charmer?' She purred at him, following it with a harrowing giggle that echoed through the dead forest long after her mouth had closed. 'Well, names are precious things, Darth Prazutis. To have a name on your lips is to hold a person in your command, I am very careful with mine.' For now, it seemed as though that was all the Mother of Nightmares was willing to say. Patience was not a shared trait amongst those who claimed mastery over the dark side, but she could have bet her life on the fact that he would be patient enough for this.

The walk from where they had met to the front porch of her home was relatively short, but she stretched it out with her swaying gait. In a way, she felt at home amongst the fossilised flora. Much like the Mother of Nightmares herself, they had long since seen the light, but she rather preferred them in the plagued state they had been cursed with. They were much more beautiful immortalised in pallid grey stone, just as she found herself much more agreeable entangled in the shadows. Bare feet made light steps up the flaking wooden steps. She spared a brief thought for whether or not the giant titan, who's steps shook the very ground beneath them, would manage to make it up the stairs without breaking them clean in half.

Fortunately the only protest they seemed to make was the deafeningly pitched creak as his weight settled. Zahra finally turned herself away from the darkness that followed her to coax the heavy set of doors into opening. After a brief moment they swung open on screeching hinges to slowly reveal the Mother of Nightmare's lair.

'Unparalleled, yes, but unchallenged. I'm sure you would make quite the adversary if you knew how to play in the dream realm.' Hips swaying in time with her dainty step, Zahra flicked her hands carelessly into the air as she crossed the threshold. Lamps dotted around the entrance hall flickered to life, illuminating the room in a dim white glow and casting eerie shadows across the peeling wallpaper. It was clear she had done her best to brighten the room a little further by the candles dotted erratically around the room, but they did little beside stain the aged tiled floors with thick white wax. Moth eaten rugs lined what little there was left of the shattered ceramic, but save for a path she had carved from the door to the stairs, they were entirely covered by glass bottles of every shape and size imaginable.

At first glance the clear jars appeared to be empty, but upon closer inspection, there seemed to be a slither of muted grey light encased in them. A spirit crashing and bouncing aimlessly from its glass prison. As Zahra crossed the carpeted walkway the jars seemed to come alive. Bright and vibrant in every shade they threw themselves toward her, squirming violently as though desperate to be released. If you were quiet enough, mixed between the haunting groans that seeped from the walls and the wind howling through the holes in the roof, the sound of muttered voices rose and fell in waves. They rose and fell to the step of their Mother's dance.

'I've come across you many times. In dreams, in nightmares, in memories.' She stopped to spin on her heel and meet his gaze with her own. 'You've inspired much of my work.' There was a glimmer in her milk-white eyes as she spoke, as though she were staring at a work of art.

In the centre of the room sat a pair of beautifully ornate wooden stairs that climbed up to a balcony stretching around the upper levels of the entrance hall. Bright moon eyes still locked onto the crimson orbs before her, the Mother of Nightmares began to approach them. 'I've seen your power through the eyes of your victims, I've lived their fear.' She paused in both word and step to take a deep breath of the musty air. 'Your words are truly flattering, I'm sure I'd find myself blushing if I could. But you. You've created nightmares that I could only ever imagine weaving. I've lived in both the dream realm and the mortal one, and never in either one have I come across such... darkness.' As she spoke the word her tone filled with a unique ecstasy, as though the sheer scale of his power stirred what little emotion she had left.

Eventually, she returned her milky orbs to the staircase and beckoned him to follow her. At the top lay another door, one side ajar enough to allow a thin crack of light to break through. Zahra entered the hexagonal room without turning to see if he had followed. Much like the hallway it was dimly lit in terms of ordinary light, and covered head to toe in shelves that housed yet more jars. It would have been hard to see any other decor in the room, but as Zahra walked in the jars shimmered their opalescent shades. After gesturing to a cracked oak table surrounded by four chairs in the centre of the room, the Mother of Nightmares spoke in a sickly sweet tone.

'Do you like tea? I'll make some.' Her bare feet began the journey toward a rusted range pressed against one of the walls when she suddenly stopped herself. 'But first...' One of her pale white hands flicked through gracefully through the air toward him, signifying her words as an official greeting. 'My name is Zahra.'

[member=Darth Prazutis]​

 

[Darth Prazutis]

Silence.

The Dark Titan was quiet as he walked through the ruined structure that contained her home. The wooden structure groaned in protest as his heavy bulk stepped down upon it. As opposed to her animated form swaying as she took her time scaling the stairs through the building, his steps were more compact. He was careful of the shorter ceilings when necessary but his walk gave way to no hints beyond his supreme confidence as to his intentions. A poker face unparalleled, he could've been ready to kill at a moments notice and none would've ever seen it coming. Such was the perilous life of being in the presence of the Lord of Lies like teetering on the edge of a knife's blade. The journey upwards he listened, but didn't address it as she lavished more and more praise. There were many reasons to lavish such praise in excessive manner and the more dangerous reason was that she could be trying to lower his guard. If that was the case than it was a big mistake. An incompetent attempt at outwitting an immortal who spent six centuries of dominance in the galaxy at large. But the Mother of Nightmares was careful, cunning, unpredictable. It wouldn't work in her favor to do that. More so there was something about this woman that was familiar. Deep in the mind of the Shadow Hand was an impeccable memory. Over six centuries of experiences were locked away tightly in the eidetic memory, locked away in his brilliant mind. But seemingly buried deep was something that spoke of familiarity.

Dreams.

The jars that filled entire shelves lining every inch of wall in the ruined structure spoke to her truth, her titles. The undisputed Mother of Nightmares, Queen of the Endless Dream, Lady of the Dreamless Slumber, Mind-Eater. As the witch crossed the room the entrapped souls reacted, spirits that appeared to have been taken years prior their jars covered in a layer of dust crashed, thrashing violently in their cages simply because she passed. They fought, struggling but it was ultimately a futile attempt as there was no escape, no home to return from the perpetual nightmare that was now their lives. In moments of the deepest silence their haunting, agonizing groans carried like whispers on the wind, howling through cracks and holes in the ruined, rotting structure. The only thing they could do was practice this exercise in futility until the day came that their Mother descended and devoured them whole. A mother of exotic beauty with skin like porcelain, as if she had never known what the feeling of the sun kissing your skin felt like. The raven hair only looked black as pitch when placed against the milk of her skin, in the light she looked like a ghost herself. A stark difference when pitted against the Mountain. Who stood over eight feet tall his hyper dense form of powerful, rippling muscle.

As they finally reached the last room he didn't respond to her offering of tea. It didn't matter or not that she made it, he would partake in the gesture if expected but it didn't matter. The Sith Lord's control over his life was to such an extent that if he chose not to eat, decided that he could stop drinking, it was so. There were other ways to sustain his form. But what mattered most was the unveiling of her name. The name cutting through the reputation, the tales of horror spoken in hushed whispers by cowering witches. Zahra.

That was it.

The Shadow Hand's mind was coming off a link with the great beyond, it slowed the arrival of the memory warning him of the figure who stood before him. They had met before. Ages ago during a different time...a different life. It was far after his time on Maena during his career as an infamous galactic butcher, a hunter for hire who killed the most dangerous targets the galaxy had to offer. It was a whos who of names under the belt, a whos who of those who were slaughtered by this walking nightmare. They paid him a kings ransom in wealth, favors, and trade goods, and he brought them the heads of those they wanted dead in return. A hunt brought to bear against the one time Mother of Nightmares, or Zahra back then. Few ever found her unless she wanted them to and in this case? He was the first to defy such directive. The event ended in an entirely different way, a different path that eventually connected them for far longer than was ever intended. It brought emotion, and emotion brought vulnerability and weakness. It brought a child, a son. It was the mistake of attachment, connection on a deep level that caused normally careful predators to put their guards down, and for a time together things were bliss. But like all other experiences.

It ended in tragedy.

A family broken up, torn apart. Darth Prazutis gave no indication as he walked up towards her saying nothing, a hand suddenly shot out as he tucked a loose hair behind her ear before. "I know who you are." He said as his hand coiled around her throat it tightened. It would've been so easy for him a twitch of his fingers to snap her neck by all appearances. But he leaned in and whispered his next words. "I remember you, Zahra." He said as he held her gaze, before letting her go. "Make the tea. I expect we will be here for some time." He said as he turned back towards the table, he approached it. "How is he?" If the Lord of Lies actually cared about the statement?

Unknown.

[member="Zahra Laurs"]

 

[Zahra Arcturus]

Though she had been expecting his hand to grip hers in greeting, his actual reaction did not surprise her as it might others. Most would flinch, shy away the second the behemoth made headway toward them, yet Zahra remained perfectly still. Touch had a strangely specific memory, and she remembered this touch as clear as day. How could she have forgotten it? There was once a time she craved it and protected it with ferocity, but as recent years had proved for a second time, nothing good came from a bond like that. It had ended like it was destined too, in ruin and tragedy. Yet at his calloused fingers freed her vision of raven hair, Zahra was reminded of why he had been worth the risk.

When his grip curled around her throat and stole the air from her lungs, the Mother of nightmares did not panic, no. She smiled. Though the towering figure crushing her throat was the epitome of fear, Zahra felt none of that. Of course she was well aware that he was a mere whim away from snapping her like a twig, but when you had worked in tandem with death for as long as Zahra had it was hard to find the prospect of meeting him frightening. On top of that, she knew him, and it pleased her greatly to see the sparkle of remembrance in his eye. Milk-white orbs tracked the movements he made as he leaned in, and the whispers that followed only garnered further elation from the Queen of Shadows.

'Oh I don't doubt it, and I'd be sorely disappointed if you didn't stay.' The remark came in a honey sweet tone. A tarnished silver tea kettle danced across the rustic kitchen, clanking noisily against the rusted range. A flick of her hand commanded it to burst into life with a searing blue glow. In the time it took for her to join him the empty table had filled with two tea cups, both of which had seen better days, and the now steaming kettle filled with a sour smelling concoction.

'He is...' Zahra spoke with a cheshire cat grin, though his question did give her pause. Had he asked out of genuine curiosity, or had he asked simply for something to say? If it was the former, it seemed entirely out of tune coming from his lips. '...Deliciously dark.' Settling in her seat and flicking her silken ebony hair behind her shoulders, she busied herself serving the tea. Doing so with an air of nonchalance, as though pouring the Lord of Lies a dainty cup of tea was entirely normal, Zahra continued on. 'And you'll be very pleased to know he's just as sane as you or I, but is that really why you're here, my sweet?'

She asked the question, lofting a slender brow as she drew her own cup up to her chest. When she had first made out his features across the dead garden curiosity had run rampant, and it was of some disappointment to realise he had no memory of her. Memories were delicate things, just as easily destroyed as they were created. Zahra knew their inner workings as intimately as she knew her own, but she also knew better than to tamper with his in any way. So, she had played along. However, now he remembered Zahra had questions, and she sipped her tea patiently as she waited for the answer to her first.

[member="Darth Prazutis"]​

 

[Darth Prazutis]

" I'm still empty inside, there's a void I cannot fill. I can't hide in the woods and let time pass by. I was a ruler, a leader of many once. I spoke from deep space and the most powerful men in the core died from the hits I ordered. I was something...a name spoken in reverence, in fear by entire populations and now? Now...I'm nothing. I'm lost like a leaf adrift on the wind. I am a piece of the puzzle that no longer fits not even here."

"In time they will kill you, both of you. It is my fate to survive it always has been, Zahra. Centuries I've lived in the same cycle watching more powerful men than I die right next to me, yet I remain. In time you will both die too, there will be nothing I can do about it, and I will remain. I will not bury your lifeless corpses when you die, and you will die if you remain by my side.."

A void.

They lived as a family once. Together [member="Zahra Laurs"], himself and their child. They gave it their best shot and for a while it was bliss, it became one of the longest relationships he'd ever been in without calamity striking, without outliving his family or seeing them die. For a while they were together and that was enough. Nothing else mattered but family. It was a strange future that befell the two who started on a path destined to turn them into enemies. But in time they became close, and through their closeness came new budding life in the form of a child. It was a crown achievement for two individuals who were so accustomed to taking life out of this world, to bring life into it. A child they raised, nurtured, loved. A risk to their already vulnerable relationship that brought them closer together. They knew the risks of it all, Braxus especially but he allowed it to happen regardless, to take a leap. But it wasn't enough. It took a long time after leaving Maena to find himself again, to find who he was and it was never enough. It was like a pit in the bottom of his stomach, a festering wound that never healed.

All the time they spent together he looked ever outward towards the horizon. It was a terribly strange feeling to be with family, to be home and to feel like one didn't belong there.

But then the trouble started.

The breaking of the contract didn't stop the enemies who inevitably caught up with them, galactic forces raining down hell hounding them from world to world. Many of whom were dark and detestable in nature, who saw love as a weakness, family as a target. Assassins who shifted their attacks to clip his son. But he wasn't an accomplished master, he wasn't half the god, the Lord of Lies he would become. There was only so much he could take, they could take before inevitably the past would devour his family. Eventually it was the very thing that ultimately saw them ripped apart, crashing down in flames and saw him leave, a warning that they were done. Ever since he never regretted his choice of leaving, for he was able to find his place beside his nephew Kaine Zambrano. After so many centuries he found his place, a void finally filled beside his own family.

"No it is not." He said as he sat on his knees beside the low sitting table. Even on his knees he was still just as tall or taller than Zahra in a sitting position. The flimsy chairs weren't built to withstand his bulk and they'd crumble into nothing beneath him. He took the tea and sipped it regardless of how hot it was. "I can see you still favor the same aesthetic you always have over the years. Oddly enough living in such squalor does seem to suit you." He said. Despite the fact that Zahra claimed a throne over witch kind few others could maintain. He always thought she'd have an appreciation for the finer things in life, but living in castles and fortresses just wasn't her, and this wasn't him. Vain Hollow was the new ancestral seat of House Zambrano and it was miles high, the Imperial Palace rose miles into the sky and it was a towering fortress, a monument of sith-imperial splendor showing the entire world the power of the galaxies strongest sith dynasty.

"I must say you've been rather busy these past few centuries. I can see the trail of bodies you've left in your wake. As for my arrival, what, is it so unbelievible that I came to catch up?" He said sipping the tea.

 

[Zahra Arcturus]

[member=Darth Prazutis]​

The Queen of Shadows watched him sit, mildly amused at the fact that he had opted for the floor instead of a creaking wooden chair. She still held no candle to his height despite him losing at least half of it as he settled, but she had always liked that. It was rare for a heart as dark as hers to favour feeling small in comparison to something, but he had made it easy. They both took a moment to take the first sips of tea, neither taking into consideration the temperature. When he spoke again she offered a coy smirk.

‘Of course, and I shall take that as a compliment.’ She bridled in her seat. ‘I’m just fitting into the rumours as usual, how can I help myself?’ Zahra took another sip of the steaming tea, humming contently as the burning liquid washed over her tongue. ‘They’re so easy to frighten, and their fear is so delicious. More often than not they do the work for me. Their little minds are always buzzing with false whispers, creaks in the night, shapes in shadows where there are none…’ An elegant hand waved through the air excitedly, her ghostly form shifted in tandem on the edge of her seat as though the very idea of it had sparked a fire beneath her. ‘Who in their right mind could resist all of that fear? So lush and bountiful, so nearly ripe for the taking. I play my part to feed it so that later I might feast.’

Her face suddenly fell, to an altogether different type of hunger. A hunger for how things once were, for the day she had first taught him to walk through the dream realm. What chaos and carnage they had caused, what whispers and nightmares they had begun, the minds they had turned white with fear. ‘My darling, it’s been far too long…’ Her words were sugar-sweet, just as they always had been. When she moved her actions were fluid, like water. Like nothing could dare attempt to make her form tangible and pin it to the earth. She came to a stop inches from his face, still in a seated position but no longer pressed against the wooden chair, as though she hadn’t needed it the entire time. Inches from the eyes she was so eager to drink in. ‘Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten what it was like?’

A hand swept through the air silently and came to rest on his stone cheek. To find one with a heart as black as hers was beyond a rarity. The man before her was as precious as a gemstone, as precious as the memories and dreams she kept locked away in the jars. Entirely unique, a temptation neither had possessed the power to resist. ‘You play a dangerous game returning, and I’m not foolish enough not to acknowledge you knew that when you stepped foot on this planet.’ Their years together had transcended the grounds of a common relationship. They weren’t bound to each other in any ordinary way. Two hearts had come together with a shared purpose, a mutual belonging to a twisted power that motivated their every move. But from the moment they met, they knew how it would end. How it always ended, and how they themselves had ended many a life. Despair and tragedy, loss and pain. Two hearts had been broken for the sake and safety of one. They had willingly allowed a weakness in, a crack in their armour, and they had paid the price dearly.

The Mother of Nightmares stayed still for a moment, as statuesque as the stone beneath the tip of her fingers. ‘Perhaps it is unbelievable… Neither of us requires meetings or words to catch up, do we?’ An ebony brow finally shifted on her face, raising up in time with her question. But for a brief moment, she allowed her fingers to trace a pattern across his cheek. A seemingly random pattern, but elegant all the same. When she pulled away it was sudden. In the blink of an eye, as though she hadn’t just spent the last few moments peering into his soul. As though she had never left the relaxed position against the wooden chair she began in. The only pause in conversation continued as she took another dainty sip from the cracked china cup. ‘Yes…’ As she spoke her milk-white eyes remained on the steaming curling up into the air. ‘I’ve been keeping myself busy, and I can see you’ve been doing much of the same.’

She pulled her gaze up from the cup to rest on his face one more. Her expression held her lips up in a soft smile. ‘The great line of Zambrano. A rather impressive feat, if you’ll allow the complement of an ancient witch.’ A flicker of something crossed her eye as she spoke the next words. ‘You’ve made quite a name for yourself, a very fitting one to say the least. However have you found the time to pay a visit to little old me?’