Polite conversation had been an observed trait. Dignitaries, nobility, the gentry. He had watched the customs and the courtesy expressed in various cultures in his roaming of the cosmos. The bowing, the scraping, the gestures of good will and fortune were locked in tight, memorized and even rehearsed should the need arise. While the physical gestures, and tone of the voice was something Nazo was familiar with, the character of those that had used such politically correct terms did not mesh with the ideals and thoughts he had already gleaned from his current mentor. Civility among the Sith - he had not known this aspect, and it puzzled the space slug while he watched and listened to the discourse between Veles and Hion. They were pleasant with one another, even benevolent and showed humility. Stranger and stranger this rabbit hole went as he peered into the interaction of two beings who radiated with the power of the Dark Side. Curious.
While the Herglic had defended Nazo's telepathic position on the matter of his friend - the reply of Veles had not sat well with the enigmatic wanderer before him. Few and far between were Nazo's conversations with others - in really any capacity. He'd not had experience in others actually challenging his intellect, or his logic. The concept was foreign, but he could gather that the Mon Calamari had been mistaken in Nazo's original intent. Having to receive clarification from the Herglic only proved that point in the slug's mind. These were the Sith who had taken Coruscant by storm - who had leveled the temple, and had forced the Republic to flee their home planet. It was a lofty thought now to think that these were those involved. His diagnosis of the situation had been passed within moments, and his attention had therefore also turned. Evident by his altered course, the seven foot tall creature began to step way from the group, while the Gizka trailed behind him, skittering about between the durasteel legs that clinked lightly beneath his robes.
Materials had been laid out in massive piles, sitting and waiting for droids and other beings to come and use the raw resources to build and shape this new vision. The slug's mask shifted, eyeing the cold and gleaming metal that laid in massive beams, creating sturdy and intimidating piles. A ringing hunger passed through the slug's food-centric brain. The call of nourishment was answered with a metal hand coming to sweep over the long beams. If the slug could have grinned, he would have been. Fresh metal, just sitting here for the claim - or so he surmised. The fact that they were building a temple was lost on the wandering entity. He was here for himself, to satisfy his curious nature - and of course to find more nutrients for his ever present hunger. His right hand placed palm down onto one of the girders and his mask'ed head tilted back. No sound was offered, but the form of Nazo remained fixed. Minutes would pass with nothing but the wind stirring his garments, until the first signs of decay began to spread.
The shine and glimmer of the polished beam began to fade and darken. Black spots began to appear in random array around the splayed digits of Nazo's outstretched hand. The slight noise of metallic strain could be heard as more and more of the beam began to corrode into this deep ebony hue. Molecular deconstruction was occurring, as the metallic deposits of the alloy and ore were being extracted by the alien presence. The poise still remained, speaking to the effect that he was rather enjoying such a hearty meal. The cognitive processes of his mind were not focused on the consequences of his actions, and in all right didn't even consider there would be. Order and rules of any society had rarely if ever applied to the slug, and he wasn't about to start asking permission now.
[member="Darth Veles"] [member="Hion the Herglic"] [member="Eleena Miho"]
