Poisoned Pride

[Cedric Grayson]

Messages rarely came through this far in the wilds of Naboo. The vast majority of the planet was modernized and communications to the greater galaxy were easily accessed, but war took its toll. Even as the royal world recovered from the Gulag Plague, it succumbed to the disease of war.

The planet had been fought over multiple times. There had been rumor that House Rade was attempting to use lethal force to retain the planet's newfound sovereignty when the Galactic Alliance came knocking. It seemed whatever efforts they might have been making had foundered, and for that Darius was thankful. This part of the plains, which had just begun to incorporate electricity into the houses, could not take another war.

When the message from Master Grayson actually came through, Darius had been shocked. The contents of the message had only added unease to the mix. He was sending a woman here. The details were sparse, save for that she possessed an astounding connection the ethereal realm and needed a sanctuary. The hermitage was a natural choice.

Darius' home was a single story sandstone building, topped with a basalt roof. It was set in a small valley between two of the larger hills, making it particularly difficult to see from either direction. A large satellite dish served as his connection to the outside world, and the old Lambda shuttle he'd procured allowed him easy access to the nearby village of Thiris. It was relatively plain as dwellings went, but then a Jedi did not need extravagance.

Darius was still a young man; far too young to retire to a life of introspection like the old masters. No, he had come here after his legion's demise at the hands of the One Sith. It had seemed to be a border skirmish when the Black Ravens arrived, but looks were deceiving. Soon, an entire fleet warriors had arrived, and it was all the Ravens could do to keep them occupied while the rest of the alliance contingent returned to allied space. Darius had survived, but none of his commanders were so lucky.

After the battle, Darius had resigned himself to the old home on Naboo. His choices had led the Ravens into the jaws of death, and he could not continue serving with such knowledge. Confident the war was in more capable hands, the young knight had taken to his studies. For months he fought to tame the art of Vapaad. At times he found success, and more often, failure. Though he missed Julius and his other friends and teachers dearly, the youth had made the mastery of the somewhat forbidden art a goal his singular goal. Once he'd achieved that, he could do the memory of his fallen brothers and sisters justice.

Then came the message, and that goal took a backseat. Darius had been an ever-dutiful student, even after achieving the rank of knight. He would never turn down the request of a master.

He'd clad in a short sleeved gray shirt and black alliance flights pants. His beard had been trimmed to look somewhat stylish, and he'd even gone through the effort of showering. First impressions were important after all. With his arms folded about his chest and his lightsaber hanging from his belt, Darius looked up to the cloudless blue sky, the sun beating down upon him as he waited on the landing pad for his new guest.

[member="CazoaMani"]

 

[GreenEve]

Once again, Cazoa's life had seemed to find meaning; one that had filled her with a sense of purpose, one that would have lead her to a satisfactory end...but like all things that came her way, it had been torn from her in an instant. The force had been awoken within her, her learning had begun, but her Master had been stolen from her by the Darkness. Her master. Mephirium. His fate - to spend an eternity locked away in the Sith tombs, captive by his own demons. And the visions shown to them? Meaningless.

Cazoa's heart was heavy as she tapped in coordinates on the flight panel. The ship felt cold, and empty as she wandered the small compartments as the ship entered warp speed. Cyril was supposed to have been on board with her, but instead his belongings littered the ship like little ghosts, reminding her of the future that could have been.

'You aren't supposed to have good things,' Cazoa whispered softly, tracing her fingers on the folded fabric of one of his sweaters. 'Like he said, chaos surrounds you. Nothing stays.'

She sighed in her weakness as she slumped down on a chair. The only thing that she could cling to now was the force, and how it welled inside of her in mountainous waves, urging her on. Naboo was her next destination. Her master's last request had been to find a man named Darius who resided in the wilderness of the emerald planet. He would be able to help her, guide her. In the shadows of her heart she didn't believe such things any more.

Cazoa rested her head on her hand, looking at her reflection in a stainless steel jug that rested on the table. A disgusted scoff escaped her dust caked lips. Grime covered her face and clothes, her hair wild and matted. It took Cazoa a long while to find the energy to get up and shower, and twice as more energy to slink into the only clean clothes on the ship - Cyril's. The khaki t-shirt was far too big and had to be tied at the waist, and the grey pants had to be folded at the bottom and hoisted up by a belt. A mess. Both inside and out.

Cazoa resumed her position at the table, but now instead of a jug, stood a bottle of blue liquor. Swig after swig, she still felt as hollow as when she had began. All she could think about was becoming strong enough to free Cyril, somehow, some way, from the tombs. Cazoa's grey eyes fell to the floor where she had thrown her torn back pack and gun belt. Inside the bag were the pieces of a lightsaber. She knew this alone wouldn't help her - she had to become something more than just a sword wielding warrior. She wouldn't let anything else cloud her determination.

The lust for power glazing her thoughts was interrupted by a relentless beeping from the flight panel - the warp jump was over, and Darius was mere minutes away. The planet loomed ahead, a globe so beautifully green and blue - nothing like the heap of dust she had spent the past month on...although as she began descending into the atmosphere of Naboo, she couldn't help but think that she would rather be back on the hunk of orange rock, amongst the beasts and ancient tombs which harboured nothing but darkness...and now a piece of her.

Amid the commotion, there hadn't been enough time for Cyril to explain to her exactly who this Darius man was. All that had been relayed to her was travel to the planet Naboo and he would help her.

The ship began to descend through the brilliant green treetops and onto a landing pad in the middle of a meadow dotted with yellow flowers. Though not intoxicated, the liquor had let her emotions run freely, perhaps not guiding her as efficiently as normal from her intuition. Now, she felt anxious, uncertain of her future, doubtful, angry. Cazoa did not see or feel it, but the force guided her - it made her pick up the torn backpack and gun belt from the floor; it drove her forward to press the release button for the ramp, and it made her walk down it into the fresh, dust free air of Naboo. The moment took her breath away. The air was delicious; dusky sun soaked pollen filled her nose, vibrantly sweet in the cool breeze. The different shades of green calmed her eyes, and the sun didn't burn and blister her skin as it had done on the Moon. It all felt so familiar to her, though she had never set foot on Naboo before. She looked down at the yellow flowers dancing in the breeze as she slowly walked down the ramp. Then it hit her. The familiararity of this place belonged to one of the visions shown to her on the Moon. One that had included Cyril - lovers bathing under a waterfall, the sweet intoxicating air swirling around them. Cazoa felt sick, and began to turn back to the ship when she noticed a man standing some meters before her. Had he been there before?

No turning back now, her intuition whispered through the emotional heaviness.

Cazoa winced and turned back to face the man.

'Darius?'

[member="Darius Sedaire"]

 

[Cedric Grayson]

A thousand ethereal hands were pulling at Darius' soul. It was all he could do to remain standing; to fight the urge to waver and return to his abode. Not even the sweet scent of the glade's summer flowers could bring him back to his place of tranquility. Grayson had sent him the antithesis to all that he had sought to surround himself with.

He shivered as icy hands explored his skin. The gentle breeze became a horrid gale filled with carrion and tiny insects the bored through the skin. The sun was blotted out by a murderous crimson sphere, and the valley's amber light was replaced by an inky blackness that tore at the soul. Darius clenched his fist at his sides until the knuckles turned white and became an unbending statue against the malignant gale. The bloody screams of the accursed wind thundered in his ears, his flesh sluiced from his bones and fell into meaty piles at his feet. He willed himself to remain standing.

And then it was gone.

Verdant fields of vibrant greens and glorious yellows rolling in slight hills as far as the eye could see replaced the muddy bones and viscera that had been the earth just moments earlier. The sickly sweet scent of spilled vitae and spoiled meat gave way to the earthy caress of Naboo's flowered air. The screaming wind became a slight breeze of gentle warm air that flowed across the skin like running water.

Stunned, Darius' gaze was transfixed upon the source of the vision. The vessel was an old boxy shuttle, one that he recognized from Master Grayson's personal stores. Within, he felt the terrible choleric nature of a dark creature. From it came a sense of terrible loss and insurmountable odds, as if all the galaxy stood against it. That feeling of hopelessness threatened to swallow Darius whole. He stood at the abyss, his lips parted in a silent scream as the dark creature's presence drew him inward like a rogue gravity well. Then he saw the creature. It was a she, and she was magnificent.

Drawing upon all that he was, Darius managed to pull himself from the brink. When Cazoa came to meet him face to face, he wore a welcoming grin, his arms folded behind his back and his bright green eyes crinkling with the smile. He was a source of calm amidst her chaos, a rock in the middle of a raging sea.

"That'd be me," he beamed, "Master Grayson informed me you were coming. No need to worry, I've prepared a room for you."

He paused to appraise the woman. She was of average height, though he towered over her. She had a beauty to her as well, something homegrown and natural, not at all alike the women of the political hierarchy in the alliance with their ridiculously perfected features. Such an odd thing that this seemingly normal woman would be the source of all that calamity.

"What's your name, m'lady?"

[member="CazoaMani"]

 

[GreenEve]

Cazoa stepped to the man as he spoke. His eyes were a sparkling green, reminding her of the many beautiful shades of Naboo. They were kind and calm, and though her efforts were minimal, she could see in them no danger. Cyril wouldn't bring her harm. Or Master Greyson, rather, as he was known to Darius.

Cyril had sent him a message? Cazoa wondered if she would hear his voice again. In her ear. Whispering to her in the night. She swallowed back desperation, and mustered a faint smile.

'Cazoa,' she replied. 'No need for a room, the ship will be fine.'

She looked towards the treeline to a small building that must have been Darius' home. 'Thank you,' she added, remembering her manners. It seemed like manners counted to this man. It was strange to feel such tranquility after being on the Moon for so long in the darkness, fighting for survival, fighting to keep from slipping into the shadows. She watched the trees dancing in the breeze, but the sick feeling still remained.

'Cyril...,' she continued. His name stung. 'He sent me here, for reasons I don't quite understand.' She frowned. Not only were his instructions vague, but it was hard to keep up a relatively normal appearance after all that had happened. The nausea washed over her again. Had she drank that much liquor? 'Perhaps it might have been clearer to you in his message?'

The feeling was too much, she couldn't stop herself. She let out a hiccup, then dashed to the side of the ship and began to dry heave. It felt like something was trying to escape her - not liquor or bad food, but something. After a moment, the nausea began to subside, and Cazoa wearily returned to Darius.

'Excuse me,' she muttered. 'It feels strange to be somewhere so...alive.' She was sure she sounded absurd. 'Or lack of water and decent nutrition.'

[member="Darius Sedaire"]

 

[Cedric Grayson]

The nature of what had happened on that moon was all too clear. Darius could see it in the way she looked at him, in the way her voice flagged with unspoken pain and uncertainty laced her words. This woman had a connection with Grayson beyond that of master and teacher. The knight had never known the older man to have a desire for young women. Perhaps it had been a one sided thing, or perhaps the impossible had happened and Cyril Grayson had let himself fall for a student.

At the core of things, it didn't much matter. Darius' experience with matters of the heart were woefully little. He'd allowed himself to be swayed by a young Sith woman, had convinced himself that he could save her from the malevolence in her heart. In the end, his own had been broken, and then came the Nightsister @Mediha. He could admit that over the course of their adventures, he had developed a soft spot for the harsh little witch, despite her thoughts of self-importance and her barbed tongue. In the end, she'd gone too, disappearing into the night as Darius had expected she one day might. On matters such as this, the young knight was ill-equipped. He could only offer his gentle smile and his kind words to Cazoa, and he doubted they were worth much.

"I felt it as soon as you landed, actually. Master Grayson is a...different kind of Jedi. He has many sins. He told me he'd gone to pay for them." He paused to search her expression, hoping to ascertain anything as to what had gone on back on the moon. "You're different too, but not in that way. The force does not simply leap to your call -- it flies. It thunders around you like a vortex -- like you're going to swallow the world at any given moment."

He offered her a reassuring smile, though he knew the nature of his words did anything but. "I've...never taught anyone. I was a padawan not too long ago myself actually, but he sent you here to learn. Why he trusted me with your teaching, I have no idea." He shrugged.

Then she ran off to the side of her ship. Darius followed with a slow gait, not wishing to alarm the woman. He ran a hand through his short ruddy hair and chewed down on his lower lip. His experiences training far younger students had been disastrous. Cazoa looked to be about his age, if not a little older. How was he going to accomplish anything with an adult whose power already eclipsed his own?

"No, no, that's alright. When you return from as barren world to one like this, you feel it. The surge of life can be unnerving." He reached over to settle a hand on her shoulder. His hand froze halfway as he seemed to think better of it. "Why don't you come inside with me? You can tell me what happened?"

[member="CazoaMani"]

 

[GreenEve]

So Cyril had said more to Darius than she had expected. Cazoa wondered of the connection between them as he spoke, almost fondly of his memory. This man was to continue what Cyril had started? To teach her of the force? He was younger than her, perhaps by a few years, which in comparison to Cyril, left her wondering what he could offer her in terms of knowledge. Cyril had seen much in his time, judging by the emotions she had felt behind his recollection of stories. And the visions.

The intensity of being on Naboo was far too much to allow room for her to sense the force around Darius. If it was there, it was nothing like she had felt from Cyril.

'Sure,' she half smiled, looking towards his house. The thought of recollecting all the details of the past month was overbearing, but she would tell Darius all he needed to know. After all, Cyril trusted this man, and he had given his life for Cazoa to be here. The painful details would be left out, for now, at least.

Cazoa walked with Darius as they crossed the flowery meadow to his house. The birds, and the whispering trees, threatened to bring the nausea back.

'Cyril found me on the Moon the eve of my departure,' she said a little hurriedly. No harm in starting now, anything to keep her attention away from how awful she felt. 'My ship was ripped apart by Terentateks, rendering it unflyable. I learnt who Cyril was - his connection to the force, and from there he helped me discover who...I am. We travelled across the Moon, got into some trouble, and now he is locked inside a tomb.'

The desperation, and the desire for power bubbled inside her.

'I think he sent me to you, to find a way to help him.'

Deep down in the pit of her soul, she knew that Cyril hadn't sent her to Darius to help him escape. Somehow she knew that he had accepted his fate. It stung her to think that after what they had felt together that he would essentially give up, so easily, and not want to be here in the real world, with Cazoa. But right now, all she could do was cling to the tiny grain of hope that he did. And it all rested on her determination to cultivate the force and become powerful enough to set him free.

But from what? The tomb? Or from her heart?

She shuddered in the face of destiny as she felt it prodding her, trying to steer her down a different path, as if Cyril was just the awakening catalyst - merely the great beginning of even greater things to come.

The nausea returned, and Cazoa balled her fist, knuckles turning white, as she fought against doubling over.

[member="Darius Sedaire"]

 

[Cedric Grayson]

The mention of terentetaks made Darius scrunch his nose up in displeasure. He'd dealt with the demons once before back on the forest world of Kashyyyk. He was a padawan then, abandoned to his own devices by a master who had thought him dead. The beast had proven to be too much for the boy then. It had charged through his encampment and slaughtered the other refugees who'd made camp alongside him. He could still hear the wet ripping sounds their flesh made as it was torn, and the sickly sweet scent of their spoiling carcasses the morning after.

"Grayson only took a handful of students while he worked within the order. To take one so late in his career...well, you must have been special." He flashed Cazoa an amused smile; desperately hoping to lift the woman's mood. She might have closed herself to the force, but the force had not closed itself to her. Darius could feel the dark clouds around her all too well.

"A terentatek hunted me when I was still a boy back on Endor. I wasn't much of a warrior back then. It cut through our entire encampment within a few minutes of its arrival. Their monstrous." He continued, his tone souring as he spoke of the vile Sithspawn. He strode through the main doors and held them open for Cazoa.

The home was not particularly unique. The floors were a hardwood common of the homes within Theed and the other larger cities. The walls were a simple tan shade, and a few chairs and a table served as furnishment alongside a holovision. The kitchen could be seen just beyond, as plain and sparsely decorated as the living area.

"Trapped in a temple. I doubt he'll remain that way for long." He continued as he strode inside. The air within was just as fresh and lively as without. "Though I doubt he sent you here to help free him. He would have told you to go after Master Julius or Shatterstar. They're far more skilled than I am."

He shook his head as he made his way toward the kitchen. A kettle of tea had already been made, and he offered her a cup upon returning. "But enough of that," he drew his own cup up to his lips.

"Are you okay?"

[member="CazoaMani"]

 

[GreenEve]

It sounded like the man had smiled his words, but Cazoa kept her eyes to the ground, watching the little yellow flowers crush underneath her step. Special? Obviously not special enough. Darius' recollection of his battle with terektateks almost made her feel connected to him slightly - that he might have some sort of understanding of what had happened on the Moon, but the sensation was fleeting.

His house was small and plain looking, sparesely decorated but clean. Cazoa took a seat on one of the chairs set around a large wooden table. Her ears only perked up to Darius' words when he mentioned that Cyril wouldn't likely remain trapped for long. It filled her with hope, and with it, she forced the nausea from her body and began to focus.

She tuned out Darius as he headed to the kitchen, and began to open herself to the force. Cazoa could feel it, the gentle waves rolling inside her, up her fingers, her arms, until it had found itself into every inch of her body. It felt different to how it had on the Moon - alive, pure, calming, tantalizingly sweet. It filled her with a white golden energy, which bought joy to her, slowly pushing out the sorrow she had been feeling. It after the brief rush of joy that she felt guilty, which made her turn it away, and place her focus onto Darius, who was now standing before her, offering her a cup of hot tea.

'Thank you,' she said quietly. The tea tasted delicious, sweet, and refreshing. It warmed her throat, and soothed her stomach.
Darius could command the force, that was made evident by his reference to himself as a padawan. But Cazoa wasn't sure that she could feel his life essence. He was there, being, but all that she could feel was the calmness of Naboo.

'I'm fine,' she lied. Though convincing to most, she knew it would not fool Darius, but she hoped that he wouldn't pick it apart. Her eyes fell to her pack which was strewn across the table in front of her. They remained on it for a moment, silently staring, until her fingers moved forward and unhooked the clasp.

Show him, whispered intuition. Darius is here to help you.

Cazoa glanced up at the man, searching his sparkling green eyes for malice. Then they fell to his belt, and on it, hung a lightsaber.

'This was given to me on the Moon,' she said, setting the cup of tea down and using both hands to rummage through the pack. She knew it when she had found the pieces, not by the cool metal on her warm fingers, but by the cold, darkness that seeped up her arms. The feeling comforted her.

She placed each piece carefully on the table top, watching Darius.

'I don't know what to do with them.'

[member="Darius Sedaire"]

 

[Cedric Grayson]

Darius knew a lie when he heard it. He watched Cazoa with a wary gaze. Her feelings on things were understandable. The loss of a teacher was a devastating thing -- something Darius understood all too well. Still, she would get nowhere if she lingered on the past rather than looked toward the future. How would Master Julius go about explaining that? The young knight furrowed his brow in momentary frustration, setting his cup of tea down on the table as he took a seat alongside her.

"I'd be a terrible host if I didn't offer tea," he snickered, "Something the old masters at the temple of Sullust told me." A calloused hand rose up toward a nearby shelf. The shelf was dotted with various datachips, parchments, and even a few traditional leather-bound books. One of those books rose up from the collection of literature and drifted down to rest upon the table between them.

"We're taught not to rely on the force for menial tasks. That doing so will make us too content to flex it for every situation. I'm a little guilty of relying on it too much." He flashed her a conspiratorial smirk and cracked the book open. The pages were old, far older than Darius, perhaps even more than this sparse little home. They were yellowed with age and the distinct smell of old parchment flowed from the pages. Darius looked at them fondly. "You need to move ahead. Dwelling on what happened won't do anyone any good. Grayson is old, and he's left an irrefutable mark upon the galaxy. The force brought you to him to set you on the path. It brought you to me so that I could help you along it."

His words were sincere and his smile was reassuring, but within the sanctuary of his mind, he was panicking. He chose to say whatever his old teachers' might have said. His own words were far more melancholy and to the point. Cazoa would not have appreciated them, no, she might have even loathed him if he gave her the truth.

"Grayson was corrupt. He saw in you a chance to redeem himself." Darius frowned at his own unspoken words.

"Those, as I'm sure you've guessed, are the components to a Jedi's weapon." He nodded toward the various metal pieces she had set along the table. "And this will help you understand them. I could explain it all verbally, but I don't think you would absorb the knowledge so well." He flipped through various pages until he came to one in particular. The edges of the page were gnarled and blackened as if someone had attempted to take a torch to them. Upon it were various images of different forms of lightsaber and descriptions as to their functions. "This, and the pages after it, detail lightsabers and their general functions. They explain what the components are for, and how they should be used."

He turned the book around and slid it over to her. "If you want to walk this path, then I will share with you whatever knowledge I have. If not, then you can stay here until you feel ready to leave." He paused, his gaze intense as he met her starry blues. "This is a tome of knowledge some would call arcane. It will help things along, and I can teach you all the things you should know."

She'd opened herself now. Cazoa had already been overwhelming when cutting herself off from the ethereal realm; now that was multiplied ten-fold. The knight shivered as her presence meshed perfectly with the serenity of the glade. It was almost intoxicating -- he immediately shut himself away.

"You're...quite talented already," he muttered, shaking his head. "How do you like Naboo? Does the vibrancy suit you?" He asked, very clearly not referring to the weather.

[member="CazoaMani"]

 

[GreenEve]

Cazoa didn't pay much mind to Darius' attempt to soothe the sting she felt at Cyril's name. She knew that he could sense her emotions.

She turned her focus to the page of the book Darius had set between them. The way that he had summoned the book did not phase her as it once would have, before Cyril. The old parchment felt rough on Cazoa's finger as she scanned the paragraphs detailing the creation of a lightsaber. It seemed straightforward now that she knew and as she absorbed the words, the copper-like jewel in her pocket felt heavy against her leg.

Darius looked at her for a long moment, and it was then that she was certain that she caught a faint glimpse of Cyril, staring back at her though this man's sparkling green eyes.

'I have to learn,' Cazoa said flatly, casting her eyes back to the book. 'I don't see any alternative path now.'

It was true, Cyril had trusted that this would be her next path. She knew nobody else connected to the force that could aid her in becoming powerful enough to save him. What would she return to? Tedious mercenary trips? At least if she harnessed the force she would never be alone.

'The Moon was harsh,' she said, still void of emotion. 'Very different to Naboo. I'm sure I will get used to it.'

Cazoa frowned and tugged the jewel from her pocket. It felt warm in her palm, almost glowing with white crystal-like wisps running through the copper tones.

'Cyril said that this was the missing piece to the lightsaber,' she placed the jewel next to the pieces and returned her hand to the book. 'It says here that one must meditate on the crystal, attuning it to the force. I've never meditated before, perhaps we could start there? Tomorrow.'

Right now, Cyril's ship and the blue liquor seemed like the only things left in the world able to offer comfort. She dared not look into Darius' eyes again after seeing a likeness to Cyril in them.

Cazoa felt increasingly agitated at this weaker version of herself - disgusted at her fruitless attempts to stuff away the sensations life bought as effectively as before.

Tea wouldn't cut it, not tonight.

[member="Darius Sedaire"]

 

[Cedric Grayson]

To understand the crystal was to understand the Jedi as a whole. To Darius' dismay, many saw the crystals as simple components in their weapons. They replaced them with nary a thought. There were no bonds forged within the ethereal realm; no connections made with that which would help them defend their own lives and the lives of others. Such a tool was a hollow thing if untouched. It would never reach its full potential, and more importantly, would leave its user un-whole. The lightsaber was designed to be an extension of its wielder rather than a simple sword. Jed, and even Sith, needed to understand that simple truth. Those that did often became the galaxy's greatest blademasters.

"There's always an alternate path. You're not stuck with any one choice," he quipped, offering her the warmest smile he could muster, "However, I wouldn't discourage learning. I don't know if I'm the best teacher...but I'll do what I can." He huffed a quiet laugh and shrugged. Darus was truly out of his depth in this regard, but he would give it an honest try.

The knight had done a bit of research on the moon as Cazoa made her trip to Naboo. What he'd found was not at all pleasant. Why Master Grayson had ever spent any time on the world was anyone's guess. Darius surmised it had something to do with the force's guiding hand. After all, would he not have met Cazoa if he hadn't journeyed to the accursed moon?

"That crystal is unique," Darius mused as he appraised the jewel. "Like my own, it's of a rare breed. You made a good find." He dared not touch the thing, but he did indulge his curiosity. The crystal almost seemed to be glowing, something quite unusual for anything other than a kyber crystal. Why was that?

"Yes, you'll need to meditate on the crystal. Many Jedi today choose to treat their crystals like simple components in a weapon. That simply isn't the case. A lightsaber is a part of you, and the crystal is its heart. You need to know your weapon." He gestured toward the crystal. "You're wrapped in the force. The crystal is to. You need to forge a link. I have a place that could help you do that, tomorrow."

He nodded.

"You've traveled far. You can rest tonight, and we can start in the morning. Deal?"

[member="CazoaMani"]