Mind over Matter

[Ellie Mors]

[member="Mala Arar"]

Nar Shaddaa

Criminal haven, cesspool of the damned, Nar Shaddaa was exactly what most of the galactic community as a whole typically tended to avoid. Even as a Sith lord with almost nothing to lose, Nar Shaddaa was one of those places that Silara would have generally gone out of her way to avoid if it didn't impede her in a significant way. It probably stemmed from an earlier life as the wife to a corporate temporary stint as royalty on some planet in the core world, but there was just something about the lawless world in Hutt space that just rubbed her the wrong way. Despite this somewhat mild aversion, however, Silara was heavily involved in something a bit more important that petty things like preferences - she didn't like pain, but that never stopped her from electrocuting her foes and burning her finger tips with Sith lightning after all.

One of the many things that made force sensitives that were naturally heavily attuned with the force aware of their sensitivity were the dreams that came and went which, fairly often, came to pass in reality. She'd dreamt of her death on Ziost when she was only seventeen, and even after trying to weasel her way out of her fate by leaving behind her identity as the voice of the Dark Lord of the One Sith and trading it in for the life of Silara Kuhn - mother of twins and wife to Alric Kuhn - she still ended up dead on some icy hill while fighting two allies of the Silver Jedi Order. Much like any other obstacle in life, however, she conquered the foe that is death via resurrection nearly a decade later in the middle of New Adasta on the very planet where she lost her life.

And much like her death, a vision in the force - in the form of a dream - brought forth images of the slums of Nar Shaddaa and the businesses that dominated its pathetic skyline. The force had whispered into her ear the existence of a young woman that had great potential in the force, someone who was possibly as gifted with raw force potential as the Sith lord was. While Silara still did not have a name to pin to a face, or even a face to work with just yet, the redhead found herself walking down the side of a street in one of the more busy streets of Nar Shaddaa, speeders passing overhead and throngs of people passing by on either side of her. Although her eyes skimmed the crowd as she walked through it, like a shark through the sea, the master of the dark side was not expecting a physical revelation of who her potential acolyte might be. Much like a precognitive sensation of impending danger, many skilled practitioners of the force were trained to detect the imminent arrival of others who were capable of touching the force so long as they weren't capable of masking their presence.

There were, of course, other methods of detecting force users, but this was the most subtle and possibly the most efficient. Walking through Nar Shaddaa with black robes and a hood might not be the most out of place sight - many of the pickpockets on the planet wore the same kind of setup - but to the untrained eye, or perhaps senses, something decidedly off could be felt by the woman. Whether it was the fact that the robes actually made their way down passed her knees or that her expression was more.. intense.. than most anyone else walking by her, an aura of unease was, without a doubt, contained within her being. Pickpockets, for example, made the choice over the course of her time on Nar Shaddaa to avoid trying to steal whatever might be on her.

All she had to do now, aside from keep walking, was wait for fate - or the force - to guide the two of them - the potential apprentice and herself - towards the other.

 

[Darth Imperia]

[member="Darth Vitium"]

Mala loved Nar Shaddaa.

Alright, perhaps loved was a bit of a strong word. But she did enjoy her time here, despite the occasional mugging, and even those gave her a chance to test her skills under duress.

Little Coruscant was a perfect place for a girl like her; running to and from their pointless little jobs to preserve their pointless little lives, the massive throng of civilians barely had time to notice an aspiring Lady of the Sith. And Mala did her best work unnoticed.

What she did took time, of course. She had to learn the routines of her target. Who they talked to every day, who they liked, who they hated. Her current target was an aging Duros who had found employment transporting crates of 'sensitive' material for a small time crime lord. This Duros, by the name of Kel Lamara, was a nice enough man; none too bright, but he was always friendly with his fellow workers, and loved his wife dearly.

That description would have been accurate two months prior.

Now, the good Mister Lamara was a festering pile of rage and paranoia, ready to burst. Mala considered him, as of yet, her greatest work. It started simply enough; talk to him in passing conversation now and again, build up a sort of rapport - just enough that he didn't feel uncomfortable talking to her about his problems, the same way he might banter with the other workers in the spaceport.

Mala learned, through her continuous chatting with mister Lamara, that his wife had been acting strange, apparently - she was more distant, less affectionate.

And that was something the young Dark Jedi could work with. Perhaps his wife was cheating, she suggested. The Duros was outraged by her accusation, but the idea stuck - and with that seed of rage planted, she could feed his anger, his paranoia and doubt. While she could've worked faster, it was far more entertaining to take the slow approach...not to mention that it drew less attention. Two months she spent warping the Duros's mind, watching with glee as he transformed from a genial laborer to a nexus of hatred.

When she heard the news of a Duros male committing a murder-suicide in his home, killing both himself and his loving wife, she decided she had earned herself a reward.

And that brings us to the present. Making her way to whatever it was that Nar Shaddaa considered a 'High Class' restaurant, Mala caught a glimpse - just a glimpse - of a black robed figure, face shrouded and concealed. While a grim sense of fashion wasn't particularly uncommon on Little Coruscant, there was something different about this figure - it wasn't just another wannabe assassin or criminal trying too hard not to be noticed. The figure beneath that robe exuded power, intensity, and presence.

It couldn't be what she thought it was. Mala was good, she knew, but that good? To attract the attention of a Sith? No, not possible. They must've been here for another reason. Still...It couldn't hurt to see, could it?

Well, yes, it could, actually. But Mala decided that the risk was worth the reward. She wouldn't do much, anyway. Just...tap the Sith's shoulder, so to speak. Tug on their sleeve, to be more literal. With a little concentration, she reached out with the Force, willing the fabric covering the Robed figure's arm to flutter and shudder.

Surely that didn't anger the Sith.
Right?

 

[Ellie Mors]

[member="Mala Arar"]

Had Silara been some random pedestrian, willfully ignorant to the force, the slight pull of her sleeve wouldn't have even registered as something to take notice of. Indeed, it was about as powerful a tug as the sensation of someone bumping shoulders against her walking down the road in that she hardly even noticed the actual movement of her clothing. Instead, it was the act of reaching out with the force that brought her attention to the dark sider that watched her from within the restaurant she was walking passed which brought her attention to the cause of the telekinetic pull. It was something she would plan to instruct the woman in the future, if she had a future, regarding why and how quickly the Sith had been made aware of her presence and actions before her sleeve was actually "touched" by the force.

It was a game of intentions and a game of signals. The girl wanted her attention, she didn't even bother to hide it, and intentionally reached out with the force - with a gesture, at that - to assault Silara, in the loosest of terms. There had been no masking of intentions, no subtle misdirections - nothing to hide the source of her sudden precognitive awareness. When Silara turned her head and paused mid-step to observe Mala, her gaze steeled with a cold sternness, the younger force user had just began her attempt to pull at her sleeve. There hadn't been any attempt by the Sith lord to halt her attempt, and indeed the fabric was pulled taut against her arm, but it was obvious that the woman - Silara - had been made plenty aware of the young acolyte.

'Leave your things behind and follow me.'

No lips moved, rather they were still pursed with a slight scowl, when the words were whispered into the young woman's ears, as if spoken directly into her head - which, indeed, her telepathy had accomplished. The words were not a suggestion or a request, either, but very clearly a command. Perhaps a test of her intentions? Regardless, and without any further instruction or a moment of hesitation, the Sith lord turned her gaze away and continued down the road and away from the line of sight afforded by the restaurant window - heading towards an alley where she would wait.

 

[Darth Imperia]

[member="Darth Vitium"]

Not dead. That's a good start. The slightly morbid thought ran through Mala's head as she met Darth Vitium's gaze, only to be followed by a cautionary 'yet' in the back of her head.

Alright. The Sith was looking at her, but what did she want? She didn't seem to be saying anything, and Mala was hardly a telepa-

'Leave your belongings behind, and follow me.'

Oh.

Mala should've been hesitant, and she knew it. Her primary feeling at this moment should have been mind numbing terror at the very idea of following a Sith unarmed, not hardly restrained excitement.

But she just couldn't help it. Trap or not, deception or not, this was a chance she had yearned for - knowledge. Power. Respect. Control. All of it could be hers. All she had to do was take that first step. Her pistol was unholstered and placed on the table, her pack landed with a thud against the cafe floor. And then, with a barely contained excitement, the young Acolyte herself rose from her seat, made her way out of the noisy, trashy cafe, and trailed a few short steps behind her Master.

By the Force, she hoped that she wasn't walking into a trap.

 

[Ellie Mors]

A cursory glance around the narrow walkway, an alley, that she'd walked into only reinforced her distaste for the criminal underworld. The people on this planet either lived like kings of the medieval variety or like the corrupted animals that were, all too often, born in the ranks of the Sith and Dark Jedi. Although she felt that the vision she'd experienced had been hopeful - in the sense that this woman had a great potential, possibly even have a legacy of her own - the fact that she was on this ball of garbage implied anything but. And while she wasn't going to simply let everything fall to chance, she would do everything she could to have the ideal apprentice, she couldn't help but feel disheartened by the idea of raising some young petty thief or murderer as the next person to continue her legacy.

But that was what separated her from the idiots who thought - and taught - that the dark side of the force was the ultimate expression of freedom, and from the elitists that believed that they were above the mongrels that struggled to survive at the bottom of the pile. Wading somewhere in between, Silara wasn't beholden to a strict set of ideas - but nor was she against using them when they suited her. She knew Sith that would have scoffed at the thought of visiting Nar Shaddaa for anything but to drain it of its resources, and she knew Sith that would have tried to use the rebellious nature of the youth of the planet to create even more "tools" that would be instrumental in propping up the former group. Where elitism and arrogance, which were certainly qualities she retained in many ways, would have had her simply ignore the vision, or perhaps believe this woman - [member="Mala Arar"] - to be her Vader, a mere pawn, actual logic and reasoning, intelligent thought that existed outside of the realms of order and chaos, told her that she was an opportunity and that passing up a good opportunity for any personal misgivings was ludicrous.

Adekos might have seen a street rat, Vornskr might have seen a possible soldier - neither would have seen the actual truth being waved in their faces.

This woman had potential, she - the Master - was certainly capable of molding her, and that was all that mattered for the short term. Silara needed an apprentice, this young woman needed a guiding hand in the right direction, and together they would form a symbiotic not unlike Silara's relationship with the force. One would exist because of the other, not because of spite and most certainly not because of whim. And where Silara went it appeared that Mala followed, though she wasn't certain just yet if it was blind obedience, sheer curiosity, or ambition. "Judging by your attendance you either have no idea who - or what - I am and are being led by your curiosity, or you're at least vaguely familiar with what I might be and seek an opportunity to elevate yourself." She said, two slender hands rising to pull her hood back from her head. "I could lie and promise you whatever your greatest desires are, or I could tell you that I can make you immeasurably powerful with words alone - but I'm not going to waste my time or yours." Silara added.

A short sigh escaped her lips while she circled around, making sure to keep the two of them well inside of the alleyway and out of plain sight. Her eyes, a reddish orange that was tell-tale of a dark sider, and almost trademark of the Sith, swept her gaze from the ground to the woman's face with a mild show of interest. "I can offer you knowledge, and I can teach you to become powerful, but I'm not looking to make a weapon, nor am I going to train someone to become one. You've shown that you can follow instructions, only I do not know how well - or if you've made the decision to listen and obey simply because you're subservient or because you recognize an opportunity. So I suppose the most telling thing I want to know about you is, if you had the skills and abilities of a Sith lord, rivalled by few, what would you do with that power?" She asked. It was an important introduction - although they hadn't even exchanged names yet. Before she would even decide if the woman was worth knowing she needed to know where her ambitions lie. She wouldn't mind if the answer she'd receive implied a selfish urge to rise to the top of the ladder, but it would be an entirely different story if she wanted to be like Andeddu and simply rule a planet and be done with it.

Rule the galaxy? A bit of a pipe dream, but it was ambitious enough - while likely never actually happening - that she would not lose sight of being a Sith. Settling down and running a singular planet with no intention of using that power and knowledge for anything else, though? That was exactly the kind of selfish she wanted to avoid. An even worse prospect would be if she turned out to be another Kezeroth, someone who liked to do things simply to cause a reaction - chaotic in nature and entirely without purpose.

 

[Darth Imperia]

Mala followed behind [member="Darth Vitium"] quietly and without complaint - whilst she'd hate to live here for very long, Nar Shadaa was a bit like a second home to her. It was Little Coruscant, after all, and much like Coruscant, the planet was easy to disappear in. And sometimes, it was a good place to make others disappear, too.

Mala had been reminiscing about her most recent victory - the Duros, of course - and was lost in thought when she suddenly found herself standing face to face with her potential Mistress. And then, to Mala's mild surprise, Vitium began interviewing her - it was a bit of a silly phrase to use, considering the gravity of the situation, but it was the only one that came to mind. The potential Apprentice listened carefully to her instructor, and spoke softly - although not timidly - in response.

"I'd like to begin by expressing my genuine gratitude - If you wasted my time with false promises and honeyed words, I wouldn't still be talking to you." Mala didn't speak like a street rat - she had a refined Coruscanti accent, and her Basic was exceptional. Nor did she act like one; she was neither overly skittish nor aggressive. Instead, she was calm and relaxed, if appropriately cautious. Despite the strength of her words, her tone still conveyed the sort of wary respect one gave to a creature that could rip one apart without expending much in the way of effort. "Nor would I allow myself to be made into a weapon, or a servant - as for your question, that's rather simple. My motivation is twofold. Self-interest, of course, and what I can only describe as a Quasi-Religious Devotion. The Force speaks to me, calls to me. I envision a galaxy shrouded in Darkness, its Light and weakness snuffed out. A galaxy where the Dark Side reigns supreme, where it and its adherents are treated with the reverence they deserve. Were I a Lady of the Sith, my efforts would be directed towards achieving that ideal Galaxy - preferably through subtle means, but actual force would have its place, as well. And if, by chance, my ideal Galaxy would also be one where the countless masses blind to the Force treated me as a God-Queen amongst them, well. I did say Self-Interest was part of my motivation." A sly grin formed on the acolyte's face as she finished her speech.

If nothing else, one thing could be said for Mala; she had a natural talent for the villainous art of monologue-ing.

 

[Ellie Mors]

To say that Mala's response was what Silara had been looking for would have been a massive understatement. Although she had no interest in being worshiped by others as anything more than what she was, most of what the Sith hopeful had said were incredibly close to her own views on what the galaxy should be like if she were given the chance to change it. While the acolyte had put a bit more focus on what Silara might consider a means to an end, an emphasis on order, it was the bigger picture that attracted the Sith Lord's attention and approval. A galaxy where the current roles of light and dark were reversed, one in which the dark side was the thriving and dominant presence in the force and the light was little more than a flickering candle that would struggle to stay lit - that was the dream that Silara wanted realized, and had been her goal since her youth and apprenticeship to Darth Mierin. Of course this woman's idea was more or less galactic domination with the sugarcoat of what she probably thought the Sith Lord wanted to hear, but it was done in a clever enough manner to garner her acceptance.

"It appears our views at least somewhat mirror the other, at least in the broader scope of things." She replied. The selfish streak in the Sith would be pulled out of her, or otherwise she'd have to learn to not let it take the best of her - just like an angry acolyte would have to learn to not let their anger control them. "You'll learn, in due time, to choose your words more carefully, however." Silara remarked, implying some of the things that the acolyte had said were poorly chosen. While Sith were certainly the apex in terms of combat prowess and raw power in the force it was still unwise to speak to one's betters with too much confidence in one's abilities - like claiming she could have stopped Silara from molding her into a weapon, had Silara been that kind of a person. "Regardless, your ideals are close enough aligned with my own. I'll offer you one chance to be put on the path to realizing that vision which you've just outlined, and provided you accept we can be on our way with introductions and the like." She explained.

"I have been looking for an apprentice, someone to learn the way of the Sith to both keep the order alive and to ensure that a vision, not unlike the scenario you laid out, comes to pass. If you wish to become my apprentice I will teach you the old art of Sith magic, of alchemy, and the dark side of the force." The Sith said, pausing momentarily to glance up before settling her gaze back on Mala. "Ancient Sith archives will be available for you to learn, and my wisdom will be at your disposal. What is your answer - yes, or no?"

[member="Mala Arar"]

 

[Darth Imperia]

It was true. Mala may have slightly exaggerated her devotion to the Dark Side of the Force. But nothing she said was completely fabricated - The idea of a galaxy ruled by the Dark Side appealed to her, even if it wasn't her driving goal. And honestly, she'd probably end up believing what she claimed to, anyway - the Dark Side had a tendency to alter one's psychology in less than savory ways.

In Mala's mind, however, a fundamental alteration of one's own identity was a small price to pay for power. She lied about her beliefs and interests all the time - to gain approval, influence, access - whatever she needed. She was a bit of a chameleon in that regard, to the point where she was no longer quite sure what, exactly, her actual beliefs were - but the half-lie she had just told appealed to her the most out of any she'd made, and so the young Acolyte decided that, at least for the time being, that she'd adopt that system of belief as her own.

In retrospect, maybe a fanatical devotion to anything other than her own self-interest would actually be good for her mental health.

The young Acolyte listened to her new Master speaking, her mind alight with possibilities - she had very little idea of what Sith Magic or Alchemy entailed, but she was familiar with the tales of the Dark Side - lightning, telekinesis, mental domination - all of those appealed to her. But what sealed the deal was the offer of knowledge. Entire archives at her disposal, the free reign to pick the brain of a Sith Lady? Mala couldn't have refused that offer even if she wanted to.
"My name is Mala Arar, and I accept your offer." There was no pomp or circumstance in her words, no unnecessarily flowery language this time - and absolutely no hesitation.

[member="Darth Vitium"]

 

[Ellie Mors]

Silara nodded at her new apprentice's response. It was a good sign to find someone so willing that didn't try to weasel in some kind of condition or term to their own benefit - not that the Sith would have conceded an inch to the demands of an inexperienced acolyte. Finding the woman, Mala, had been a bit difficult - or, more accurately, time-consuming - but it was by far the easiest part of their journey through the galaxy together. The more difficult part would start to rear its head with the beginning of their training and truly reveal its hardship to the acolyte once she was ready for actual combat, or at least hazardous conditions. Although Silara was of the mind that any Sith worth their salt needed to at least be able to use a lightsaber competently enough to defend themselves, she never could rule out the possibility of a more support-oriented apprentice. She, herself, had spent a great deal of her time learning battle meditation after she'd mastered actual combat skills and techniques. Makashi and Niman, for instance, were as second nature to her as telepathy was.

Whether or not Mala would be as inclined to such versatility would remain to be seen for some time, but it was certainly something that would present itself as an actual difficulty in the future - much like her own training with Darth Velez when she was a simple acolyte bearing no name, when she'd showed a gift with a saber but was rather unskilled in telekinesis at first. Practice made her better, but it was not an easy road to travel down. "Excellent." She answered, pausing to take in a thought. When she, Silara, had been an acolyte, she had been without a given name and most certainly wasn't permitted her title acknowledging her place among Sith until she was knighted by her master, but it had been more or less because Silara had not wanted any identity or sense of self until she had earned it. It had been her choice, now she was in a position to enforce her own choice on the acolyte. To strip a young force sensitive of their identity, of everything they knew and held dear, however, one could invite any number of risks. Mala could, potentially, become someone blinded by ideology - perhaps too focused on being what fits her vision of a Sith that she loses sight of her true path, or maybe caught up on enforcing order for "the greater good" and falling trap to the biggest lie the Sith ever told the galaxy and believing her own words. On the other hand she could leave behind all the distractions that the galaxy had placed on her shoulders and become the clay that would be molded into the perfect form she needed. There were almost as many possible outcomes as there were sides on a die.

Someone who relied totally on playing it safe, sticking to only the tried-and-true methods, might have abandoned the thought at the realization that there was a great risk evident in such a play. Someone who was totally engrossed in the idea of survival through risk might seize the opportunity if only because the reward was there with the risks to give it worth. Silara, on the other hand, only cared for the outcome - she wanted her apprentice to understand that until she was a proper Sith that she was about as valuable to her, or anyone, as the dirt they trod on.

Except, the dirt they stood on didn't have a name.

"Then we will be leaving this cesspool once you're ready. The sooner, the better - my only word of warning is that once you leave behind Nar Shaddaa, you leave behind your entire life for a new one and a blank slate."

It might be cruel to strip someone of their most basic instinct, their self-identity and self worth, but Mala would earn something greater than what she had now and ever could have had without this opportunity if she lived up to the expectations Silara had for her. Even in her response there was another out for Mala, in case she caught the general idea of leaving everything and was having second thoughts. It was a different time and place in the galaxy from forty-two years ago, where Silara's obsessive desire to become a Sith might have been a bit more... normal.. during the warring period between the One Sith and Galactic Republic of the last era, it was anything but normal - in fact, it was actually difficult to find any Sith in the galaxy gathering in one place. She had grown up in a time of zealotry and obsession that was very much so the core of the last incarnation of the Sith order, but with the death of the One Sith there were few that were willing to go to any lengths to identify with them, much less throw away everything that came before joining in with the Sith. The younger folk, people of Mala's age, might actually view self-worth as a greater value than preservation of the whole.

[member="Mala Arar"]

 

[Darth Imperia]

Mala hesitated - she had picked up on the 'everything' in Vitium's warning. Considering who she was dealing with, the young Acolyte considered it best to take her new Master literally. A New Life was quite simple, really - she would cease to be what she was, a scrounging, scavenging opportunist flitting from planet to planet. That wasn't the part that worried her. But a 'blank slate?' That implied that she would not only change, but lose who she was - and the scariest thing was that it didn't bother her at all, not really.

Mala Arar. The Primadonna. The Diva. The Queen Bee. She loved luxury, craved attention and adoration. She had detailed political opinions, loved the thrill of a good debate and the taste of fine wine. She was in every respect the stereotypical middle-class diva, playing at being more important than she actually was.

But, in truth, the young woman with the blonde hair was not Mala Arar - she was an actor so convincing that, at times, she simply forgot that she was playing a role.

At her very core, the young woman standing in front of Vitium was a raw, unrefined bundle of passion, malice and cunning, a lump of clay lacking purpose or shape. She had no beliefs to speak of - no religion, no philosophy, no tenets by which to live her life. She had preferences of the most basic sort - she preferred sweet foods to sour ones, found the color black soothing, and found Leap-Jump to be the most appealing genre of music she'd tried so far. Her fears were real and genuine enough - death was a big one, but the only unique fear she had was agoraphobia. And, of course, there was her Obsession - Power. Control. But that tiny collection of traits was all that made up the young woman. She was less a person, really, than she was a sapient bundle of instinct.

The young Acolyte found it slightly amusing that, for the first time, she had to be honest to get what she wanted. When she next spoke, her tone...simply wasn't there. Her voice was flat, monotone, lacking rage or amusement or even the undertone of malicious playfulness that accompanied all of the Mala persona's speech.

"I think the Galaxy was far ahead of you in regards to my becoming a 'blank slate,' my Mistress. Anyway, I am prepared to leave. Should I retrieve my belongings, or are they, too, unnecessary?"

[member="Darth Vitium"]