Private Reconciliation

[Srina Talon]

Location: Alvaria
Direct Tag: Darth Strosius | Darth Malum of House Marr

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​

"Someone always is."

Even if he couldn't see them mourn, suffer, and cry to the moon for absolution that would never come. He let the words settle into the empty space between them and the Echani did the same. She half expected to be berated, for drawing breath, mostly, but it never came. Her eyes slipped from his face to his hands again, noting, how he held the satchel he'd snapped up from the floor. Srina had been trained since infancy to notice what others wanted to hide. It was why she so swiftly saw to the heart of things, regardless, of her lack of social graces…And for that, she couldn't ignore what mattered to him.

Her training didn't allow it.

No Empress or Emperor of the Sith Order in any history would have been caught dead sitting on the floor of a proverbial dungeon with a self-professed traitor to the crown. Her posture was strangely perfect despite her relaxed position. She seemed to have been draped where she sat with her legs crossed, arranged, in such a fashion that it appeared both elegant and haphazard.

She looked away from him when Alisteri spoke of his own perceived failings and read between the lines. Claiming that he should have done more. How much more? How much more could they stretch themselves thin before they broke? What use would they be to anyone if they fell apart because they hadn't known when to stop? What wars would they lose? How many more would die because the heart won out over the mind and they were led into oblivion by sentiment? "You cannot do all…You cannot be all. No one can. Were that the case, no Empire, would ever fall."

Her eyes rose and fixated upon him once more, golden orbs reflecting the muted light with an almost ethereal glow. There were secrets in her. A galaxy full of them that swirled to life when looked at closely enough. "You believe that you should have done more. I've often thought the same as it is a question that haunts all who survive…But the past is immutable. We can lament it, or we can learn from it."

That wasn't to say she didn't agree with remembering those who had fallen. There was just a fine line between preservation and becoming paralyzed by it. Her voice was measured, and calm, but beneath it all lay a line of strength that could only be likened to durasteel. It was the indomitable will that kept her standing despite the overwhelming ruins of all she had known. Alisteri might not have lived through the fall of the Confederacy—But he knew her anguish all the same.

Even if she could not express it properly.

"Sometimes…. We only see what we've lost or what we've failed to achieve. But even in failure, there is purpose. Even in loss, there is a lesson. Remembering this is how I honor those I have failed, those, who have suffered for my ineptitude. My mistakes."

It was about that time that the reason for her visit in the dead of night came to a head. The ivory-haired woman rested her cheek back in her hand for a long moment while feathery lashes slid back to the floor when he finally asked. Why had she come? What did she want? They were all valid concerns but she wasn't certain any answer she had would be sufficient. Possibly, because the question was incorrect. Her head lifted, tilting, while she observed him. It was inhuman, almost hawkish.

"I want many things. Only…Not from you. For you."

She paused, her gaze softening just a fraction, though her composure remained intact. He didn't know her well enough to know that she didn't lie, even, when it would be safer. Easier. It was the one thing that truly made her ineffective in a world of political nightmares. "You claim not to be a loyal subject and yet, I suspect, you have done very little without the betterment of the Sith Order in mind. I know very few men more loyal to the cause. Why would I knowingly leave someone who gave their life to rot and wither away?"

"I want to understand, you. I want you to understand. Not just me, not just the throne you revile, but the world as it is. I told you before…We are not gods. We cannot fix everything. But, we can strive to be more, for ourselves, and our people.", her tone grew more introspective, reflective of the immense thought, and effort, that she had placed into this conversation. It would show in the way she had to occasionally search for the word. As if speaking this way, this much, was almost uncomfortable for her. In some ways it was…Echani, preferred body language over all. "I did not…Come to gloat, nor, to force any misbegotten vow of fealty. I came because you are still here. That means, you have a choice."

"I am common…", she trailed off, soft, while her eyebrows drew together just slightly in thought. "I am not of noble blood or bearing…I am not the Empress that many wish for, but for the moment, I am the one the Sith Order requires. I do not feel hatred, nor anger, for you. I do not feel betrayed. I do not see a traitor. I came because, despite everything, I see in you a struggle that so many face. The struggle to find meaning beyond pain, to choose a path forward, when all roads seem blocked."

It had been foolish of her not to prepare something ahead of time so that she could recite it from memory but the words hadn't come. There had only been the feeling, the need, to seek him out from wherever it was that Malum had hidden him away. "You can disappear into the shadows and nurse your wounds until the Empire forgets your name…Or you can take my hand. Let me, help you."

"Allow me to bring you in from the cold so that you can start anew…I can feel that you've the strength to endure, but endurance and stubbornness won't be enough to undo what has been done. Like me, hate me, it matters not, but I am a resource that few have access to. We differ in how things should be done but…We have the same goals."

She drew a soft breath, letting that silence linger, offering him space to think. Or rage at her audacity. Srina had weathered countless insults, criticisms, and blame for all she had and hadn't done. Many people blamed the current throne for things they hadn't even been involved with. They were entirely different, inside, and out, but most could only feel the boot on their neck.

Even if it was only a memory.

It never occurred to them to look up.

"I am asking you above all…To swallow your defeat. To stow your pride. To fight."

 

[Darth Strosius]

There was a part of Him that kept up pestering the back of His mind with continual dismissals and stray thoughts of astonishment at His current predicament. Failure had led Him all the way down here. Tucked away like some dusty antique by His own murderer and now sitting across from one of His apparent foes. And talking to her about regrets of all things. It was quite absurd. It was unconventional. Yet it was present and real, a bit too real for His tastes.

The offered words of, dare He say, sympathy and comfort didn't sound hollow but the chords they struck within Him certainly made Him feel as such. Perhaps He couldn't do it all, but could He ever do enough? Had He ever done enough? There was always more. Always more slavers waiting in the wings with whole populations in binds, always more Jedi waiting to strike when they noticed a weakness in the Sith, always more Sith that would place themselves as an obstacle to victory in order to achieve their own ends. Always more deaths staining His hands and conscious alike.

In a rather unexpected reaction from the somber man, He scoffed and let out a shallow chuckle at the mention of learning rather than lamenting. A sigh and a closing of His eyes as He barely suppressed a tremor followed it. She had no idea. It was the learning that was the hardest labor of all. The most time consuming. The most painful. While His current predicament was a perfect example, His mind briefly flickered with His previous defeats and the aftermath of each that He could only dread. Jedi, Sith, even a Mandalorian, it hardly mattered aside from His defeat at their hands. Each time He had fled with wounds but those weren't what bothered Him. They would heal, it was what wouldn't that would haunt Him.

It was the memories of sinking into His Oubliette, freshly healed wounds still stinging as the lid closed and the process began. The process of breaking the ceiling that had been placed upon Him at birth. The process of breaking His weakness. Needles. Chanting. Agony. Blood. Visions of His defeats, of a pale serpent wrapping around His throat and binding itself in place by biting its own tail just to choke Him. Of waking in panic and pain, of flailing and screaming and crying out as His body was infused so that He wouldn't lose the next fight. But He did. And so it all began again.

His eyes opened, staring blankly at the bag in His grasp again. What had it all been for? All that pain, that sacrifice, that suffering. What had it gotten Him in the end? Beaten. Defeated. Bound in a malformed body with newly missing pieces that He had no idea how to recover. The only permanent damage to His body being that which He had inflicted upon Himself in His quest for success. His quest with no ending in sight, as each step onwards had only dragged Him farther and farther back. Him and everyone foolish enough to follow Him.

Whereas the Empress remembered to make up for her losses and mistakes, remembering His own was all that He could do it seemed.

As her gaze softened, His would ever so slightly narrow when it returned to her. "For me?" The choir that had echoed His words before now whispered them instead, disjointed and broken in tone much like the cracking voice of their originator. That she was finally recognizing His dedication to the Sith was little more than a hollow comfort at the moment, a slight sneer adorning His face as though it should have been obvious before. It was one of the only things that He'd said to her before today that hadn't been some sort of insult or lie after all.

As always her words drew confusion and hesitancy to the forefront of His mind, offering a reprieve from the depths of His own emotions that He had sunken so eagerly into, but were thankfully relevant enough given their conversation thus far that He could pick apart her remarks accurately enough. He was lucky that He happened to have a similar penchant for exaggerative and introspective wording Himself He supposed. A commonality between the two of them, one of many it seemed, that He didn't mind at the moment.

She was offering a proposal that He'd have never returned. Her exact reasoning still eluded Him, but evidently it made enough sense to her to be the reason for her visit and this polite conversation that otherwise never should have occurred. The exact details of what she was asking were similarly elusive but all that mattered now was the initial offer and His response to it. He should have thrown it right back in her face, cursed her and her husband to damnation for all eternity. He should have reached for His blades, either would do, and strike. He should have let loose as much of a lightning bolt as He could manage. He should have leapt across the short distance and torn her throat out with fangs and claws alike.

Instead, He sighed. With slow movements that belied unseen wounds, He rose from His sitting position and shuffled away from the Empress as silence reigned between them. The bag that He had been so tightly clutching before left in His spot. He moved to stand before the table that He had rested His sword and saber upon, whereupon sat bacta injectors and fresh wrappings and everything else that had been entertaining Him during His waking hours. Where dead flowers and withering ones were still laid.

Then He looked to the only other source of light in the room apart from the candles, the bacta tank that He had been effectively revived in. It was empty at the moment of course but the lights and control panel were still active, slightly blinking as they awaited their patient. His eye twitched. His features morphed into a grimace. Then into a snarl. A growl escaped Him as His fingers curled into fists. In a flash of movement the table was thrown, the objects on it clattering to the ground in a cacophony of noise that was quickly drowned out by the crash and cracking of the tank being shattered by the table passing through it.

His shoulders heaved with His breathing and quaking fists, His whole form shaking with turmoil as the pale tendrils sprouting from His back frayed and distended into jagged spines. Then He inhaled and turned on his heel, His eyes opening to reveal dimly glowing golden pools. Darth Strosius inclined His head slightly, His expression blank yet His gaze burning. "And what would the throne of the Sith Order ask of the Lord of Wonosa? Where is our fight?"

Srina Talon / Darth Malum of House Marr

 

[Srina Talon]

Location: Alvaria
Direct Tag: Darth Strosius | Darth Malum of House Marr

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​

It had to happen, sooner or later.

She remained perfectly still when the debris from the shattered tank floated past her, untouched, and unbothered by the sudden and violent outburst. Pieces of wood and glass seemed to have frozen in her vicinity and hung in the air as if lengths of translucent finishing line suspended them. Gravity held—But the projectiles simply spun in the air for that which should have scratched, cut, or impaled her slender form. Waiting with her, while she observed.

The gold of her eyes were pinpricks in the flickering light, twin suns, that remained unwavering and steadfast. There was a quiet patience within her. Strong as any steel…But with a touch of something softer that could have been innocence. It was as if Srina couldn't see the threat, not, because she thought him weak. It was because she saw further. Inhaled the frustration—Witnessed a soul laid bare. It was truth, without the veneer of propriety.

Her wounded hand moved and the wood and glass slowly settled to the floor. Her posture stayed relaxed. Delicate. There was no grandeur in her current form, save, the ever-present scent of jasmine and rain and the creeping undertone of ozone. Unless she focused on clouding her force signature and shielded her aura to the point of nullification—It was always there. She was simply enshrouded in the calm stillness of someone who understood. There was nothing she had to say that he wanted to hear.

There was nothing she could do to remove his hate at this juncture.

So it was that Srina did…The only thing she could. Wait. Let his anger and frustration fade into the quiet, offering no immediate response, allowing him to wrestle with his turmoil. She had informed Alisteri Haxim long ago that she was not his enemy. She had meant that, emphatically. It brought her no pleasure to see him this way. Run down, mutilated, and at wit's end. When she finally spoke, her tone was gentle, almost a whisper that echoed through the room with undeniable clarity. "The throne is an illusion. It does not think, it does not speak, it wants for nothing…"

The water from the tank skirted around her cloak, like a boulder in the river, creating a diversion while the water rolled toward the drain. She seemed so very out of place in the chaos he had wrought, pristine, and beautiful as the dawn. It was not the crown that drove flocks of Sith to her side without question. It was not the weight of the Imperial Court and certainly not the might of her husband. His temper drove others away, easily, and without mercy. "I ask it of you. Not, some inanimate object."

She paused, watching him still, noting, when a tremor ran through him. It was the mind of a predator that sought weakness, who, saw the fractures and fissures in his person through eyes alight with shatter point. Not because of a threat. Not because, she intended harm.

It was just how she understood the world.

"The first fight will be with yourself…With what you left behind before the kaggath."

The soft murmur indicated that she knew about the struggles of his apprentices and those who had been affected most by his passing. He had a generation to lead. A flock to shepherd—Not all had perished to ash after his grand proclamation. The Sith Order needed him to return, not as a cautionary tale, but as a reminder that Sith were resilient. They could not be killed, nor dispatched, so easily. "The next will involve re-establishing a base of power, even, if it is already on the rise. It must be hastened…You will not thrive in this dungeon for long…."

Formos was a devastating loss, even though, the Lady Raaf had likely intended it to be the harshest of lessons. It should have never come to pass, however, the abduction of her grandchildren likely should have never happened either. It was a series of poor choices and results that she had been too late to interfere with, especially, because neither sight had sought out assistance.

The closest they had to it was Malum declaring a kaggath in a desperate bid to take the heat from his not-brother, brother. By that point, there had been no choice but to make it public. The Empire expected Sith to turn on their own—But it was not kind, to those who were caught doing it.

Subtlety was not something Darth Strosius had either never learned or had long forgotten.

"War is coming…Sluis Van, Dorvalla, and Echnos were only the beginning. We must be prepared for the Alliance and we cannot be tangled with one another when their warships approach. This is the same war we have always fought. The same battle. It is to fight, not for buildings, or planets, or territory but for the simple right to exist. I heard their cries, their orders, on Echnos…"

"They called for our heads. For our blood—At any cost. They will not stop…So we will not stop."

It was very simple for the small woman seated on the floor, moreso, than it was for others. It was in the foundation of Sith Philosophy, where each Sith, was a product and challenger of history. Leaders in the past had catapulted their Empire's into the future through fear, threats of pain, of death, but that wasn't the way she chose to lead. That wasn't to say that she couldn't be as brutal as any of them but her targets were often precise. Practical. Her mind often leaned toward tactical applications, in which, wars became mathematical equations of cause and effect.

She knew what it would take to obtain the most favorable outcome.

To sacrifice the few—to save and empower the many.

"I would ask that we not do the work of our enemy. I would ask that we not destroy ourselves and lead the Sith to ruin through hubris and foolishness…", she spoke, truthfully, and with a firmness that betrayed a hidden passion on the subject. The pale woman shifted from her place on the floor and slowly came to her feet. The glass and wood crunched beneath footsteps that drew her closer to the man with what appeared to be a half-life. "This Empire…has suffered enough."

From outside and from within.

"I do not expect a response today. At most…I can only ask what it is that you need at the moment. I will facilitate it regardless of your decision. What is the first goal you need to achieve?"

 

[Darth Strosius]

Illusion or not, it hardly mattered from where He stood. It may not have wanted nor acted but He knew well enough those that did so on its behalf cared little for the truth of the matter. Empyrean's seat wasn't physical or literal in any sense of the word, rather it was a functional network of illusions and facts alike that worked together to keep his words from falling on deaf ears. The throne was indeed very real in that sense, the Empress's own presence here being a perfect example of it put into practice.

As she paused and regarded Him, the unmasked man shifted and did His best to appear more presentable. More akin to His usual composed demeanor. The lack of His usual visage unfortunately meant that every wince or subtle inhale was very visible, plenty of which were caused by His stiff muscles aching with movement alongside the newly healed and sensitive wounds. "Semantics. What is it that you ask of me and mine then?" He doubted that the answer was all that simple.

Darth Strosius tensed and felt His jaw tighten at the 'first fight' as it were, silently cursing His own luck. Either Malum had let slip that one of His had been captured or the Kainites were more brazen in their bragging than He expected. Not to mention His followers had apparently been bickering amongst themselves over courses of action in His absence, the scarce reports of their activity filtering back through Him via His gracious host being troubling to say the least. Flattering that they still seemed to uphold His teachings, but troubling in their bold actions with seemingly no real plan of action in mind behind it.

Rebuilding His powerbase was less a separate task in this regard and more a necessity in order to achieve the first step in its entirety. "Faldos and the Inquisition belong to the Heir of Marr now, as per the rules of the Kaggath." He didn't even bother trying to hide the slight grimace that His own pride caused at the mention of His loss. "I'll have to look into establishing a new base of operations in the Outer Rim. Sith space will be too dangerous for my followers to reside in, it will take time to recuperate our loss of status."

Without the guise of the Inquisition to mask and justify their actions the Order of Wonosa would be vulnerable, even more so than they already were, to the predations of ambitious and callous Sith among the Order. The last thing that He needed was Raaf or any of her brood coming back to finish what she'd started with Formos, or for Carnifex to decide to add more of His flock to his horrid prisons. His standing was effectively less than nothing, reputation alone wouldn't be sufficient to exist within the Order anymore. He'd need to establish Himself properly, the method of how to do so would be what eluded and confounded Him but in time He'd figure it out. He had to.

"I have seen what the Jedi and their Core scum do to Sith worlds and populations that they capture." He still remembered the battles for Ziost. Later the war against the Ashlan heretics as well. He would not have either atrocity repeated ever again. "Rest assured, Empress, despite my distaste for the powers that be," He flexed His fingers and idly glanced down at them as little arcs of violet lightning danced between them. "I shall not have a single one of our worlds suffer the desecration of the Alliance, and neither will my faithful. Even if I must stomach certain presences on our side in order to achieve it."

The Jedi were a pox on the galaxy, the Core their patient zero. If they gained any sort of foothold in Sith space, whether it be militarily or symbolically in the minds of the downtrodden Sith citizenry, then the cost to properly expel them would be monumental. An unyielding defense would be required alongside an unstoppable advance. Both of which He could supplement of course, but primarily it would be the populations caught in-between that could prove the most vital pieces to sway the war.

One world's occupiers would be another's liberators and so on and so forth, perception was everything. And while most Sith might disregard the common populace and use fear as their tool of choice to keep revolts in line, Darth Strosius was not most Sith. Neither were His followers simple faceless soldiers that would oppress and slaughter all that opposed them. The Order of Wonosa held a unique advantage in both experience and methodology that would help keep the populations of conquered worlds in line, so long as they were permitted to do so. Or so long as their involvement was never discovered. A fanged smirk stretched across His features for a moment at the thought.

He scoffed at her impassioned statement, crossing His arms in front of Himself as she drew near. "It is not me that you should be speaking to if you wish to make such a request, Empress." In spite of it all He couldn't help but glower. "Keep your husband from repeating the mistakes of his predecessor and make sure Carnifex and his ilk cannot run and hide as they did before, and you will have your wish fulfilled. I am no coward nor turncoat like those that you brush elbows with, nor am I some great leader of the Sith that can steer us to victory. Raaf and Malum made sure of that. However I will see this war to the end. To the Core itself."

A rather bold proclamation for one in His position but His words were no less genuine and laden with remembrance than hers were. He refused to forget the treachery of those that had positioned themselves above Him at every opportunity, refused to forget the shambling state of the tenth empire they left to rot. He would not see it repeated in the eleventh. No matter the cost.

Finally she asked what He would need for once, an invitation that even He knew passing up would be foolish. Ships, a pardon, a planet, several options occupied His mind for a few moments before He dismissed them all. "I need access to a communications console. I need my apprentice back, I need my faithful reunited, I need my best followers to know that their faith has not been in vain." His Disciples, His Darkseekers, and His Priests would all need to be informed and notified. Faldos was apparently unreachable but He could not spare the time to reunite with them yet, the Rimward Wonosan presence would be far more useful for His immediate goals at the moment. Primarily, if Malum's words were still accurate, He'd need passage to Korriban.

"I need a mask."

Srina Talon / Darth Malum of House Marr

 

[Srina Talon]

Location: Alvaria
Direct Tag: Darth Strosius | Darth Malum of House Marr

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She laughed.

It was a reflexive response to the final request from Darth Strosius that couldn't be helped. There was no mockery in the sound, only, a soft and airy coolness. She had just offered him anything he could possibly require to begin anew and one of his major requests was a mask? Not an army? Not fleets of ships, credits, or security? The aureate fire in her eyes seemed to soften, lessening, the intensity of her presence. It made her more human and less like a being made of stone.

A mask?

There was some level of self-deprecation present, but that wasn't a bridge was capable of crossing. Srina had looked upon his visage all this time and had never flinched. She hadn't even realized that there was anything he might want to hide, save, his identity. Perhaps, that came with being married and forever entangled with an actual monster of legend. A mythological beast that masqueraded and moonlighted as a God when he saw fit. Nothing, shocked her. "We will see it done. You have lost one face…"

"I will craft another."

It was fitting in a way. Sith were often the architects of their own illusions and this reappearance of Alisteri Haxim was quite possibly the largest trick the Order would bear witness to in this generation. She didn't really get the sense that he needed the mask to hide, however. Perhaps it was more to proclaim than anything else. That he was unbeaten, unbroken. Still, the man that his faithful could follow and trust amid uncertainty and chaos. "A communication console is simple enough…Your children will come when you call them. Your apprentice, fairs well enough, despite her situation."

Srina left the question of what she wanted to the wayside, however. She could not explain it more than she already had…But the rest? It was simple enough. "Do not… Diminish your strength before me. If there is one thing I know well, it is power, strength, and the will to move forward."

Her eyes drifted to the remnants of his armor, quiet, while she considered the rest of his statements in the reverse. It was always that way with her. Silence, while she turned things over in her mind. There was power to be found in words and she was wise enough not to speak without ensuring that she meant what she said to the fullest degree. "You realize...My husband, Carnifex, and I do not always see eye to eye."

There was merely enough respect to bridge the gap, where argument might have occurred, it became mutual understanding in the wake of open warfare. Agreeing to disagree for the security and safety of the Order to become a reasonable goal versus a distant dream.

"There was a time when they could barely share the same planet, but I ended that feud, once and for all on Mustafar... I have and will voice my thoughts to them, freely, and will continue to do so whether they want to hear them or not. Empyrean did not marry me for obedience and Carnifex does not remain near because I am adept at servitude…It is quite likely; I am a headache to them both."

The end of her statements were a little wry, as if, she couldn't fathom why either of them kept her counsel. Most assumed that Empyrean was lucky to have her at his side. They were wrong. He was the one with the dream, the wit, ambition, and intelligence. He was the one who added color to her world of endless gray. The night to envelop her stars. "But…Neither wish to repeat past mistakes nor do they wish for the Empire to fall. They are imperfect creatures, however, and they are just as capable of error as anyone else. I am lacking, in ways they are not. I am proficient, in things they are not. This is why we do not operate in a divided state, why they will not cross me if you accept my protection."

"Understand…I will do what must be done. I will be…Whatever the Empire requires. Mother or Monster. Neither of which I expect you to forgive…But I am as I am. I do not want you to feel misled. I will not lie to you…Even when you want me to."

If a pardon was to be had it would come with her name, from, the long arm of her protection ensuring that Sith far and wide knew where the returned Darth Strosius stood. She would not intervene with his operations but her presence was a tool that he could utilize for his benefit. For the safety of himself—And his followers. Her lips curved into a faint smile, though it was devoid of warmth, more a calculated expression than actual emotion. "Your armor needs to be repaired. You will need ships, men, weapons, and enough credits to facilitate your activities. If you have a world in mind, please, speak up. I would claim it sooner than later lest some new Governor decides to lobby the assembly for it."

"Your condition is also…", her head tilted, evaluating him carefully, with every flinch and wheeze. "Impaired. What must be done to improve, swiftly?"

Srina was a woman of surprising means, mostly, because she didn't squander funds and had controlling interests in several manufacturing companies that were of repute. She had never looked at capital the way Empyrean had but her husband had ensured that she would never want for anything on top of her investments. He had spent a good deal of his fortune lifting the Eleventh Empire from mud and squalor but hadn't done so with her purse strings. Srina never knew until everything was said and done…Not even while she built her version of the Malsheem. She paused, however, when she realized her questions might have been perceived as invasive.

She had never learned that boundary, merely, seeking the heart of the matter.

What would it take to bring him home? To bring him from this dank, dark place. To return him to his people, to the stars, where neither he nor Malum had to keep playing a game of charades anymore? It weighed on them both. Such a secret…Such a burden.

"Forgive me…We can begin with what you have requested. Is there anything else you would wish of me?"

 

[Darth Strosius]

Her laughter melted the rather stalwart and composed demeanor of the unmasked man in an instant, His shoulders sagging slightly as He rolled His eyes and stifled another cough with His hand. "It is an essential requirement." He cleared His throat and idly rolled His shoulders to occupy His nerves with movement so that His voice could remain steady. "My followers aren't used to seeing...this face. Nor is anyone for that matter. My mask will ensure my return is recognized by all and disputed by none, the lack of it would lead to confusion and discrepancy."

A somewhat flimsy excuse but one that He would stick to without wavering. Darth Strosius knew well enough the power of symbolism and metaphor when it came to the Sith, such were the tools that He Himself had wielded often. To return to the wider Sith Order free of His mask would be akin to an act of regret or shame, casting aside the legacy and history of what He had done thus far. It would be a sign of weakness when strength was required and He wouldn't suffer it. Nor would He suffer having to face himself in the mirror again as He had done these past few days.

Mainly though He would need it to hide the awful expressions that revealed what He'd rather keep hidden. Such as the twitch of His eye when she mentioned His children and His apprentice, a subtle breach of composure that had passed just as quickly as it had emerged. But one that had no less appeared on display without His wishes. That Revna was relatively fine and that His cult wouldn't spurn His call did ease the tension in His form somewhat at least. "My strength is diminished. A pale, ragged remnant of what it should be. But I will recover in time."

He made use of her silence by moving away from the destroyed tank, shuffling through the broken glass around it as He picked up one of the fallen items from the table. His lightsaber. He clipped it onto His belt before walking back to the precious bag that He had left sitting on the ground earlier. He merely offered a small hum as she spoke up once more, reaching down to pluck the bag from the ground before finally looking back at her with it clutched tightly in His palm.

"Mustafar?" He remembered it well enough even now. The heat, the battle, the droids, the volcanic ash that had clung to His robes like pollen. The early days of the Sith Order seemed so long ago now, and He supposed they were. It had all been so much simpler then. So much clearer. He actually smirked at the mention of her being a headache to them both, genuine amusement lacing into His words for a moment. "Then you have my thanks for that, Empress."

He raised an eyebrow at her assertion that they didn't want to see the mistakes of the past repeated but surprisingly didn't voice His disagreement. He had yet to see any real evidence to the contrary, and quite frankly He doubted that He would have believed it even if He had, but He let her say her piece without interruption. Even if she was wrong in that assessment. "If you insist, although I have my doubts that your wishes will be as respected as you say." While she might be able to corral Empyrean, Carnifex and his lot were another matter entirely. At the very least He knew how best to avoid the Kainites, but these days it was all but impossible to do so with the Eternalists and their wretched Sepulchral.

Even with a pardon that would be as adhered to as she claimed, operating in Sith space again would be a delicate act. Even without being hunted by the powers that be directly there would no doubt be upstarts and brownnosers eager to try and wile their way into the good graces of those above them by eliminating one who had so obviously placed Himself at odds with them. He wasn't worried for His own safety in that regard but rather those of His followers, He could handle any upstart Sith that might try and assail Him personally.

He winced at the mention of His armor and gave the ruined metal a glance before sighing. It was in an all but irreparable state as it was, it would have to be melted down and reforged to be of any real use. Which He could do of course, once He rebuilt the workshop that He had lost on Formos. "Is Dromund Kaas available? My flock would love to have their home back." He was joking of course, a sly smirk adorning His features for a moment before He continued. "A world within Sith space will be risky to operate from at first until I have properly restored my forces. It would be too much of a target. I'll find one on my own, it will be better that way."

He paused and made a sharp inhale as His...condition was brought up. The pale tendrils exuding from Him had recessed somewhat over the course of their conversation, but now they had returned to coil around the arm and fingers that held the bag. "I..." He wheezed in spite of Himself as He looked down at the bag, idly toying with it in His fingers as He swallowed. "I have...some ideas. I'll need to reconnect with my cult and do some additional research before I can make any concrete attempts. My workshop on Formos was destroyed in the fighting, I must rebuild it in order to properly restore myself." For that He'd need a new world to base Himself out of, one that wouldn't go touched by outside interference like Faldos would.

Darth Strosius's gaze flickered back to the Empress as He steeled Himself, shooing away the thoughts of delving back into His oubliette again for the time being. "Keeping your husband and Carnifex away from my flock and myself is the greatest gift that you could offer. As of right now they and Raaf are the greatest obstacles to my return, and ones that I unfortunately cannot remove at this time." Perhaps one day He would be able to do so. But that would be no time soon, especially not when He was still missing pieces. "I need to reestablish myself in the Sith Order somehow, in a way that will prevent the greedy and ambitious vultures from descending upon my powerbase. Do you know of any potential opportunities to do so?"

Srina Talon / Darth Malum of House Marr

 

[Darth Malum of House Marr]

He did not know how much time had passed since he had first collapsed onto the floor, but the ground beneath he was certainly dampened, the moisture absorbed by the floor as best as it was able, it was a small mercy that there was no puddle that remained. He tilted his face towards the sound of lullaby fluttering through the interior breeze, long since had the words been uttered by that of human tongue, long since had he forgotten that he could not understand the words spoken, it was the ghostly remnants of the song she sang as she abandoned him here, it was the power of music that even without understanding, he certainly understood.

The memories that did not belong him to him were seared into his mind as if they had been taken by a holocamera, the memory playing out in his mind again, and again, without relief nor end. Two seperate minds conjoined in singular body analysed it fevereshly, knowledge... knowledge that not even she had known about, knowledge that which shattered the readily made calculus that had him marching forward earnestly.

The Emperor had heirs of his own body...

...There were further obstacles in the path to all which was necessary for the good of the Empire.

Anger, molten anger, pulled him upwards. Her words were enough of guarantee that she held no intention of violence towards his co-apprentice, the vision she forced upon him, a guarantee of trust that he would not soon forget, but the former always held the blossom of the old adage that no plan surived contact with the enemy, and never was that more apparent than with his b-... than his... than with Alisteri, and of the former...

...It was a growl that propelled him onto his legs as he remembered every instance of her torturous interference, the anger married with the frustration of so often it being an... amiable course. Alvaria, Echnos, and now here too again, she trusted him... she trusted him not... she trusted him.. she... Malum could hardly be certain. That she held her odd affection for him, for certain there was no doubt of...

...But had she ever trusted him in his decisions? Ever trusted him in actions? For all which he was a blossom for her to garden, she always wished to make certain he grew the way she wanted, and...

...He could not deny the temptation to simply fall into what she wanted...

They had always run counter to their aims, it was hardly a shocking realisation, but one which had lain simultaneously within the conscious and unconscious, she sought to keep this... horrid status quo, this one which naturally held her, held her husband, held her allies in positions of prominence, maintaining the chains on their lessers as they claimed their own necessity, convinced themselves that they were essential to the future of the Sith.

Old bones, old minds, that had only ever led them to ruin, to worms and tyrants alike.

He had wanted to undertake that threat to Darth Empyrean that day, for even out of the poisoned chalice that he had drank out of, for even out of the hopelessness of their situation, he had wanted war. He had wanted to fulfil the promise of pain that he had offered their Emperor, that the Tsis'Kaar would bury themselves deep into the very veins of the Empire, that through a thousand minor cuts, the Empire would collapse on itself, as no matter what he did, no matter how many he killed, that the Tsis'Kaar would refuse to relent, refuse to do anything else, but make him bleed.

He had wanted to finish that battle with Kaine that day, for even out of deepsated disadvantage, for even as the man could fight without fear of death, for he feared it so severely that he had made the tools necessary to avoid it, he had wanted war. He had wanted to fight, he wanted his blade to cut jagged slices through that black armour, he wanted to kill him with all his worth, all his power behind him, for even if it was a waste, even if it would send the galaxy into flames, he would have that satisfaction. He wanted the entire galaxy to know... they were not all like him. That he had put his principles above personal gain.

On Alvaria, he would have been true to himself... he would not have become the betrayer.

On Echnos, he would been true to himself... he would have acted in the good of his people, acted in the good of the Empire.

And if he had died? If he had been killed in service to the good that he knew he could bring out? At the very least then...

...He could at least live with himself.

Death is our solace, the ancient words of his House reminded him.

His heart beat heavy in his chest, gripping beneath the breastplate, as stuttered steps took him ever forward, for all which affection she held for him, for all which love he held her... he would not let her take away another from him. For all the frustration that mounted upon his brow whenever they shared proximity, for whenever arguement was fraught and blades threatened to be drawn.

His brother was his.

Her laughter was a foreign sound, so alien to have him stop in his tracks, they travelled well within the bounds of his walls, as he turned a corner past the art raised high, and the walls that seemed to be of an unnatural marriage of youth and age, to the steps down into the depths of darkness, that which place he had known they were to be. He stopped by the doorway, the spiral staircase that which would take him further down, their voices were softly spoken but well heard...

...It was better than what he could have hoped, listening attentively, as a riposte of words were exchanged, and as Alisteri's finished, he finally took the first steps down, emerging into the darkness, the face of Darth Marr framed by raven locks, a lithe if still muscular figure, tall and proud, beheld within armour that should have been altogether too similar to the two, as through the visor of the mask, if one gazed intently.

The marriage of red and yellow gazed at them, seeming to not even notice the wreckage of his basement.

"...I imagine the damage is not from some duel in my home?" The voice drawled out from beneath the mask, as he turned to Alisteri, "Your mask along with some remnants of you are on Corva Yag, I am led to believe some more of you ended up on Korriban, I will set out to recover the former easily enough," Malum eyed the bag of ashes in the possession of his co-apprentice with some interest, he imagined they held the key to his recovery, "Those of the Inquisition truly loyal to your vision attempted some trouble after your... demise, I took into custody who I could, stripped them of their positions, and sent them to Belsavis, the Wonosa attempted an insurrection on Sevarcos, many were killed, those that survived joined them on Belsavis." It had been information that he had not purposefully withheld from Alisteri, but neither had it been information that he had been particularly forthcoming about.

"I shall release them into your care, their crimes forgiven for the good they can do the Empire, and they shall be the first of your rebuilt ranks, along with those other former Inquisitors and Wonosans that have thus far escaped justice," His voice left little room for argument, even as he offered a side eye to Srina, an incline of the head, the only indication that her word on the matter would be respected.

Respected enough that he would do it secretly if it came to a disagreement.

"Dromund Kaas is held by B- Darth Prazutis, as you well know, it has not changed in your absence. I imagine striking their alliance again is not in your interest, tell me when you decide what world you seek, we shall do what we do best," What exactly that was, was left entirely vague, as was meant to be their way he supposed, "As for opportunities, the war ever continues against the Alliance, while..." He smiled beneath the mask as a stray thought entered his mind, "...The Tsis'Kaar are soon to gather upon Dorvalla, I shall send you an invitation for you to arrive at a certain date and time... let us see how different our visions for this Empire are... brother." The mocking twinge held no bite, as it drew them upon the last of the topics of discussion.

"...As for Revna, as odd as it is, what the Empress states is the truth, my cousin, your apprentice, seems very happy upon Korriban, she refuses the Empresses' aid, such that I imagine she will not accept our aid either," His mask turned to face the Empress, even as the words were directed to his co-apprentice, "I myself cannot find it in myself to give a damn, frankly, held under Kainite thumb they can provide her with what bread and circuses she wishes, but we faced the prospect of war when T- Darth Arcanix's kin were taken under bondage, and they were not fit with a torture device..." He turned head his to face the boyish face of Alisteri, it was odd... that he was masked and he was not, that the man before him looked the boy, when the one beneath the mask, the younger, looked the aged, "Whether she has been confounded to desiring to remain within the Caldera or not, if there is one thing that we are in agreeement in," He offered his gloved hand forward, a silent question of they would once more be aligned, "It is that she can no longer be held by our enemies, so whether it requires war within the Caldera or not."

His eyes glimmered dangerously.

"We will have Revna back."

Darth Strosius Srina Talon
Mentioned: Darth Empyrean Darth Prazutis Revna Taeli Raaf

 

[Srina Talon]

Location: Alvaria
Direct Tag: Darth Strosius | Darth Malum of House Marr

______________________________________
​

"My husband knows where I am. Why, I am here. As such…The headache I cause continues."

If there was amusement to be found in a wife annoying the daylights out of her husband it would easily be found there. He had spoken of the followers, his face, his waning strength, and his concerns in regards to many of the more active Sith in the Order. Darth Empyrean would not overly concern himself with the actions of Alisteri, dead or alive, unless the former Lord Inquisitor chose to follow in the footsteps of his previous life. "You are correct to have your apprehensions…I do not intend to dismiss them. I am not almighty, but if anyone can quell Carnifex or Lady Raaf, I believe that I am qualified to do so. I only ask that you not give them a reason to oppose me. Don't expose your throat."

At this point she had reached a respectful understanding with most of the parties that Darth Strosius had a history with. Not all of it could be explained, nor, did she had he words to accurately provide assurances—But this was something she could do. "You needn't do that…"

She paused, realizing, that the forever-youth might not understand what she referred to.

"I sit on your floor, at your feet. You needn't call me by title when the court is not peeking around every corner. I am Srina, first. You may address me by my given name."

She had asked for it from those she frequently interacted with on many occasions, however, they conveniently seemed to forget. Or chose to turn it into a weapon. Perhaps it was her own folly in forgetting the sound, but so many titles, and so many crowns created egos that were impossible to navigate. Those who needed to declare themselves King—Never were.

The quiet woman remained seated on the cool stone floor amongst debris and ruin; her dark cloak spread beneath her like the unfurled wings of a great beast at rest. Her eyes remained pinned on Alisteri Haxim but there was a growing distance in golden hollows that seemed to echo some sort of disquiet. The former Lord Inquisitor would notice it when the ghostly smile fled her lips like shadow that scattered beneath the light. He would see it when the faint, barely there laughter, phased into a barren a wasteland.

Alisteri, who faced her, would know instantly when her walls raised and her expression turned once more to unfeeling stone. As if feeling in any capacity were some sort of sin, as if, she had no right to it at all. Her gaze became unreadable in the dim light, flickering, as Darth Malum of House Marr finally stepped into view. The wintry woman had sensed him long before his footsteps ever touched the stairwell. He had been listening. Of course, he had.

"What can be said? Darth Strosius has bested me…Clearly we fought to the death."

And yet—They both lived to tell the tale. Funny, how that worked out.

Her otherworldly countenance did not shift, not when he spoke, and certainly not when the Heir of Marr tossed out his dry observation about the wreckage that surrounded her. She exhaled softly, a sound too delicate to be a sigh but close enough to be one. "Eavesdropping, Malum?", the airy murmur was almost tongue-in-cheek but it was chilled with something else beneath it—Something distant, something resigned. This was what the King of Alvaria wished of her, it seemed, having outgrown her love in a moment of weakness above this dungeon on his knees. His mask had returned because he wished that she knew him not. Yearned, for her not to see the truth of him.

It was far too late for that.

Delicate fingertips traced an idle pattern on her wrist and she raised it just slightly to allow her holo-link to raise off her skin. He listed off what he had done, what he would do, what he thought he could decide. He spoke of duty and all while bitterness simmered beneath every measured word. She could hear it, even, as she had trusted him with her greatest truth. She always heard the disdain that lived and breathed through him with her every action, woven only, to keep the Sith Order whole.

And she let it slide, as she always did.

There was no chastisement about the deception of the Sith Lord who stood not five feet away from her. No scolding for the way he framed his actions, as though they were noble, instead of self-serving. Malum had lied to her, to the Emperor, and the Empire as a whole. He'd hidden the truth when it suited, yet here she was, offering every advantage, every piece required to repair the damage that had been done. And still, he spoke over her head. Not to her. About, her. As if she were an obstacle…

Rather than one who cared for him, so. Who would continue to…Whether he wanted it or not.

She drew up holdings that she had threaded through several shell corporations for the purposes of anonymity. The near soundless Empress was no technological mastermind but she had close ties to many who were almost as adept in the Dark Net as she was with a lightsaber. The light from rising holo-screens made her seem even more pale than she already was, even though, she tried to keep the brightness from offending the one she had come to see. Alisteri was still raw, still burning, with that slow-simmering anger, but he was listening. That, at least, was something.

Srina pushed a holo-screen toward a wall and it would display the specifications for several ships that had clean logs and IFF that would register to "Srina Vail Talon" until the new owner decided her aid was no longer required and had the transponders reprogrammed. "Would ships of this caliber suffice to begin your restoration? I have a small contingent standing by. It is not the fleet of the Inquisition but I imagine it would provide adequate defense and swift transport."

"There two are each capital class vessel (Carrier, Missile Carrier, Svalinn Destroyer, Merciful Class, Arjuna Artilley, Andarta Support, Argonaut Carrier) and as many fighters and troop transport (Minokawa, Bit-Interceptor, Luna Transport) as required (X)."

With these units at his disposal, it would aid the Echani in keeping certain elements away from his flock while he made his recovery. It seemed to be the singular most important thing to Lord Haxim and it was something she could provide if he didn't need help finding a new world to settle. She had to disagree about the placement, however. If he existed outside of Sith Space he was merely trading a lesser threat for a greater one. "There are private spending accounts, attached for every vessel. Allotments for crew, leisure, galley, parts, and any refueling necessities."

The small creature made notes about his mask whilst giving him time to peruse what she currently had available. If Malum had actually saved some of his flock from a traitorous end the ships would give them the ideal place to hide, and cover, to allow him a level playing field. She did not comment on the fact that it seemed the King of Alvaria had been keeping secrets from all of them. It had been prudent enough to keep the survival of the former Lord Inquisitor a secret from the entirety of the Order but was it just as prudent to keep the flock from their master?

Perhaps it was the Tsis'Kaar eroding sense and replacing it with hubris.

Perhaps it was youth.

It was a fight Srina was too…Weary, to have. Not when she had come all this way. Not when she was the one with a hole in her hand, with her children exposed, and the burden of knowing far too much about several crises currently brewing. When Malum mentioned Revna her gaze finally slid toward him, watching him, for a long, dark moment. The silence filled the small chamber and she let the pressure build until it felt like shadow might tumble out of the walls and strangle them all.

Did he hear himself?

"Do not pretend that the situation between the sub-spawn of Lady Raaf and Revna is the same. It is foolish to make that claim and a Dark Councilor should not openly make himself a fool. Let us not pretend for moral high ground."

The very plain words hung in the air. There was no malice behind them, no grief, no anger. It was the same factual way she had spoken upstairs, detached, and devoid of emotion. It was the same way she always spoke. Her eyes closed for a moment and she shook her head from side to side. Slowly. "It is more complicated than going to fetch a book from the library and stamping ownership on it. You will have her back if she wishes to return to you. If you force Revna to bend to your will without considering her desire and reasoning—You will lose her completely."

Perhaps, to the very group that had taken her in the first place.

There were also things they did not know. Things…She didn't feel that it was her place to discuss. Srina had attended a recent event on Korriban with Darth Carnifex and the raven-haired apprentice had been swept away in the arms of the King of Korriban. It was no spell. It wasn't stockholm syndrome or coercion from the device in her spine. Srina had recognized the exchanged glances the whispers, and she had learned, from speaking with Revna on a visit to Jutrand. She saw the same thing in the former slave that she knew existed in her, when she looked at Empyrean, from the very moment, she finally stopped running from him.

The future Queen of Korriban was in love.

"As far as she knows, you killed her Master. Revna… won't have an ounce of mercy for you."

How did Srina know this?

If someone had killed her former Master? Or worse—Lied about it? The suffering, the agony, would know no limits. Srina not was cruel. She was exacting, fully, and completely.

She would take everything from the one who wronged her.

Piece, by bloody, piece.

 

[Darth Strosius]

His head cocked to the side. "He knows? How much does he know?" Even with her assurances of His relative safety from retribution, He couldn't help but be concerned and wary. Until He had regathered His followers and restored His armor then He would be exceptionally vulnerable to any potential retaliation, so keeping His return as concealed as possible until He was prepared was essential. The less that knew the better in that regard. Especially when it came to the upper echelons of the Sith Order.

"You'll be relieved to know that I have little intent of settling either of those scores anytime soon then." Retrieving Revna would put Him, theoretically at least, at odds with Carnifex and his ilk right away of course but if He could play His cards right then the tyrant would be none the wiser until it was far too late to intercept them. "With any luck they'll have no idea of my return until I announce the capitulation of the Core Worlds due to my triumphant forces." A slight smirk implied that He was joking. Mostly.

He quirked an eyebrow up at her remark then the pause that followed it, briefly opening His mouth to inquire what exactly she meant before she thankfully continued. The assertion to be called by her name rather than a title did somewhat strike a chord in Him. He had long since given up attempting to dissuade His followers from addressing Him by honorifics, to separate Him from the person He was by uplifting Him away from a name. After a moment He clicked His tongue and shrugged His shoulders.

"I'm afraid I can't comply entirely with your request." There was a brief moment of hesitation, a twitch of His eye, before He continued. "My...mother always told me that it was improper to address a lady by her name alone. 'Too familiar, too indecent', she would say. But if you wish then I shall simply refer to you as Lady Talon, anything less would be disrespectful." It was an odd compulsion but one that He seemed committed to as the unwavering tone would imply.

When He noticed a subtle shift in Lady Talon's demeanor He first thought that He must have finally offended her in some way but a quick glance behind her soon revealed a better potential reason. Malum's entrance was to be expected, eventually. It was his home after all and there was little doubt that he would have come bounding to nip at the heels of the Empress in one way or another. There was one thing that did irk Him about the arrival though.

"You left part of me back there?!"

The jagged tendrils trailing from His back solidified in their pale coloration, looking far more akin to their state during the Kaggath than they had in the past few weeks of being mere wisps. Luckily for Malum the unmasked man's ire swiftly turned into curiosity when His Inquisition was mentioned, gaze narrowing in suspicion as He grimaced. Imprisoning His followers on Belsavis seemed like a bit of an overreaction but so long as they were alive then they could be recovered.

"See that they are returned as unharmed as is possible, without raising suspicion." He didn't sound at all pleased by the admissions of conflict regarding His followers, nor did He look it with His gritted fangs, but His tone was kept level and civil. "I can recover the wayward remnants that have eluded you easily enough, between meditation and communications on certain frequencies." Those blessed with the Force could be reached out to directly and those without knew well enough the codes and frequencies that only the Inquisition and Wonosa made use of, gathering His flock would simply be a matter of time with the proper resources and breathing room.

Naturally, yet unfortunately, Dromund Kaas was far and away from His grasp for the foreseeable future as He had expected. It was still somewhat disappointing to have it confirmed though. "I shall see about alternatives then." Probably a newer world on the edge of Sith space, somewhere still chaotic due to being a recent acquisition. The war with the Alliance was a matter that He'd have to assist in tending to sooner rather than later but He'd need at least a few of His affairs in order before He could commit to it properly. The meeting on Dorvalla made Him fix Malum with an inquisitive yet somewhat disappointed look. "I believe you know well enough my opinions by now, but I shall join this little gathering I suppose."

The little rant regarding Revna was surprising enough to catch Darth Strosius off-guard for a multitude of reasons, perplexion dominating His gaunt features until the hand was offered. He hummed before slowly accepting it, His own gloved hand no doubt feeling unnaturally cold to Malum even through the layers they both wore. He winced slightly at the sudden light that came from Lady Talon, glancing her way with a grimace as His hand fell back to His side. It was the brightest thing that He had witnessed since His awakening and it took Him more than a few moments to determine what it was as a result. Even still He had to squint whenever she brought up specifications and lists for Him to peruse. A fleet not of His flock's design wasn't initially appealing but the ability to travel around without detection due to that very fact was ideal. At least initially, until He could find His footing in the Order once more.

While He made note of the various models and ships offered to His service He didn't at all disregard or ignore the rebuke that Malum was given by the Empress, His gaze flickering over to the pair of them as He mentally finalized His choices. "With all due respect, Lady Talon, we are talking about Kainites. We will always have the moral high ground above such heretics." He straightened His posture and crossed His arms behind His back as He looked between the two of them with a resolved expression.

"Neither of you seem to understand my apprentice in her most basic and natural state. She is a survivor above all else. If she has gained any sort of comfort in her captivity it has been hard won and done out of sheer necessity, not desire. She will do what she must to survive until escape is available to her, and we will deliver that escape in order to ensure its success." There was little room for doubt in that regard. The point about Malum and Revna having contention was of note though, it would only complicate matters.

"I shall take a portion of my followers and go to Korriban myself. Malum, while I will not rob you the chance to save your kin we cannot risk our movements being too brazen or obvious so for the moment you must remain placid and uncommitted as though nothing about the situation has changed. When I need you, I will call you." It was a matter of when and why, not an if. "My little expedition will guise itself in secrecy through honesty. My people will seek an audience with the self-proclaimed King of Korriban in order to barter for Revna's safe return. And while they parley, I shall seek her and escort her off of the planet before the talks are even over with."

There was so much room for error, so much that could go wrong if but a single instance wasn't properly accounted for, but such was the case for every other plan. "War on the Caldera is out of the question, as loathe as I am to admit it. The moment my survival becomes well known she will become a piece on the board for the Kainites once more. Swift and silent action is the only chance of success. I will not fail her a second time."

Srina Talon / Darth Malum of House Marr