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Tag:
Darth Malum of House Marr
Location: Jutrand
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"It's all right...Not to be all right."
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Star Wars Roleplay: Chaos
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Private Soliloquy of Tea: Part I
- Thread starter Srina Talon
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Tag:
Darth Malum of House Marr
Location: Jutrand
______________________________________________________
"It's all right...Not to be all right."
The Heir
Malum swallowed down the sweet tea, and stared up blankly towards the Empress. Despite this being now a near monthly activity between them, Malum still could not quite help but still be bewildered.
Here he was, at the home of perhaps the most dangerous man in the galaxy.
And he was drinking tea with his wife.
He placed the cup down on its saucer, parsing his lips, wondering what exactly he should say to that. This activity between them had slowly progressed since the earliest months, since arguably the first time on the eve of Fiviune.
He had been guarded, cold, cold much in the same way she had been cold really… but after months of simply… talking with the Empress, Malum had come to a startling conclusion.
She was not in fact cold at all…
…Alright she was, but it was more accurate to say she was not meaning to be cold… she just was… well rather odd.
That realisation had opened the floodgates.
"If I join the Dark Council, like so many of them wish me to, it will grow so much worse... even the Emperor mentioned how quick my advancement has been, how young I am.” Should he confess such weakness? Certainly not.
But she certainly had a way of seeing through him to such a degree that there was little point in hiding it, unless he truly tried.
And truly?
He wanted to know why he had been nominated for the role, and this was perhaps the only woman in the world that may know the answer.
And well… he found himself just simply wishing to talk to someone about this.
This weight on his shoulder.
This anvil on his chest.
This noose tightening around his neck.
Srina Talon
Here he was, at the home of perhaps the most dangerous man in the galaxy.
And he was drinking tea with his wife.
He placed the cup down on its saucer, parsing his lips, wondering what exactly he should say to that. This activity between them had slowly progressed since the earliest months, since arguably the first time on the eve of Fiviune.
He had been guarded, cold, cold much in the same way she had been cold really… but after months of simply… talking with the Empress, Malum had come to a startling conclusion.
She was not in fact cold at all…
…Alright she was, but it was more accurate to say she was not meaning to be cold… she just was… well rather odd.
That realisation had opened the floodgates.
"If I join the Dark Council, like so many of them wish me to, it will grow so much worse... even the Emperor mentioned how quick my advancement has been, how young I am.” Should he confess such weakness? Certainly not.
But she certainly had a way of seeing through him to such a degree that there was little point in hiding it, unless he truly tried.
And truly?
He wanted to know why he had been nominated for the role, and this was perhaps the only woman in the world that may know the answer.
And well… he found himself just simply wishing to talk to someone about this.
This weight on his shoulder.
This anvil on his chest.
This noose tightening around his neck.
Srina Talon
Administrator
Tag:
Darth Malum of House Marr
Location: Jutrand
______________________________________________________
The way the weight of his decisions brought his shoulders down, to the point, where she could see his heart sitting in his shoes.
"If it does not suit your future...You may decline. Empyrean will not force you."
Her husband was many things, but a fool was not one of them. It would not serve the Sith Order to appoint someone who didn't have the drive and ambition to be on the Dark Councill. Who didn't have the teeth to cut through the vulgar red tape and politicking to get to the heart of matters of critical import. "There is no shame in admitting when we are not ready for what life has provided."
"The only failure...Would be lying to yourself."
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The Heir
Malum offered a ghost of a smile as she refilled his drink, perhaps half the reason he returned month after month, beyond the simple command that he should was this.
The tea, so sweet on his tongue.
The air, so clear, so crisp, so unlike the black smogs that belched out the tallest industry spires of Jutrand.
Here, he was reminded of home, of the Jutrand he knew behind the Manse’s walls. No doubt after matters concluded here he would need to travel there, it had not been too long since his latest visit to his parents, his sisters, and his cousins.
But it had been long enough.
He brought the tea to his lips, considering her words, hiding his feelings behind the lengthy sip.
"It suits my future entirely, which is half the problem, so much to do, so little time, I am left doing so much... apart from truly living. Then I consider how much responsibility Your Imperial Majesty has, and... I wonder how you can do it." He replied, carefully, even as a twinge of something, annoyance? Anger? Shame? Sat swimming in his stomach.
Yes, mayhaps he thought himself unready.
But who was she to throw such into his face?
So instead he deflected, instead he reflected, that she called the Emperor in such both formal and informal terms, he was certainly curious of that… and so much else.
Srina Talon
The tea, so sweet on his tongue.
The air, so clear, so crisp, so unlike the black smogs that belched out the tallest industry spires of Jutrand.
Here, he was reminded of home, of the Jutrand he knew behind the Manse’s walls. No doubt after matters concluded here he would need to travel there, it had not been too long since his latest visit to his parents, his sisters, and his cousins.
But it had been long enough.
He brought the tea to his lips, considering her words, hiding his feelings behind the lengthy sip.
"It suits my future entirely, which is half the problem, so much to do, so little time, I am left doing so much... apart from truly living. Then I consider how much responsibility Your Imperial Majesty has, and... I wonder how you can do it." He replied, carefully, even as a twinge of something, annoyance? Anger? Shame? Sat swimming in his stomach.
Yes, mayhaps he thought himself unready.
But who was she to throw such into his face?
So instead he deflected, instead he reflected, that she called the Emperor in such both formal and informal terms, he was certainly curious of that… and so much else.
Srina Talon
Administrator
Tag:
Darth Malum of House Marr
Location: Jutrand
______________________________________________________
Every meeting started the same way.
Pleasantries.
What little she was capable of at any rate...Followed by a touch of chatter. Small talk to fill the air with something more than her wintry stare and his not-entirely unfounded suspicions. They were in a nation full of Sith in which most of them had, or someday would, have designs on slicing one another ear to ear. He had no reason to understand, or trust, that she wasn't moving against him.
That would only come with time.
Silent eyes took in the response to her words. She would not flinch before his insecurities nor would she draw attention to them...But body language and autonomic responses, the things he could not hide, spoke to her more than he would ever know. Her understanding and perception of emotion were severely stunted by years of refusing to feel. This...Was the only way she knew how to translate it. When he finally asked his question she gave it a moment to settle before responding with cold honesty despite the deflection. "I chose something to fight for. You'll do the same...My first home drove me away because I wasn't strong enough. My second home crumbled because I wasn't strong enough. I will do everything I can not to fail a third time... Even if our Sith brothers and sisters do not approve. Do not understand."
She had a taste of the piping hot tea, though, she drank it with with her air raised. Her sleeve carefully hiding the actual act of her doing so. Whether it was habit or not it seemed to fall in line with the same way she served it. Precise, without spilling a drop.
"I have told you before...", she said, so softly, but there was a wistful firmness to her frozen whisper. She wasn't...What they thought she was. She was no more royal than a piece of sand. Her blood and family were as common as blades of grass on Eshan. The Sith had their own need for titles but she would rather not indulge it if it wasn't required. "It is Srina...Call me by my name."
There was a pause before a sigh settled from her. Eyes...Far away.
"...I forget the sound."
The Heir
There was always something about her stare that could make him feel so small. Though, perhaps it was less the stare, and simply the fact those he now stood beside were simply so much taller than he.
Not only physically, though many of them were that.
But simply… of age, of experience, of strength, of power.
If Malum stood upon the shoulders of giants to achieve the position that he knew had held.
Then these figures, were in themselves the giants that only grew taller, no matter how much they stagnated.
And that gave them certain… ability, as the golden eyes opposite stared so seamlessly through him.
He parsed his lips during the pause between his question and her answer, and her answer… he took mental notes of what was said, a common enough occurrence during their conversations. The Tsis’Kaar of his Mistress had kept copious notes of those of importance within the Order and beyond, the Empress was no exception.
And though the Tsis’Kaar’s aims had always been of preservation, to learn even more, was never in doubt. The first home must have been Eshan, the second home the Confederacy, it had been a long trip indeed for the third home to be here.
"We always fight, the Code says that peace is a lie, yet... if all we do is fight, fight against our external foes, fight against each other, fight against ourselves, what is the point of our existence? By the end of my lifetime I wish to see the galaxy secured under Sith rule, yet, is that in itself an implicit desire for peace? I have people, family, friends, to protect, I have ideals, beliefs, to march towards, I have myself, to fight for... but is there not something more to us than fighting?"
This was dangerous territory he knew, some might have even called it heretical. However, if there was one advantage in the strangeness of the Empress, it was… well, Malum might contend that the woman might not even bat an eye at the word, ‘heresy’.
Only for his mind to click closed, pausing a second to register the request. As she said, it was not the first time she had corrected him on this, and just like every time before he felt the innate wrongness in the request.
Malum had been taught his entire life, drilled into his mind the proper ways of etiquette and hierarchy. There were thousands of minutia involved in every interaction with a subordinate, a peer, and a superior.
In fact, this interaction was a relatively simple one, she was Her Imperial Majesty, and Malum was her loyal servant. She might have been relatively new to the role, but… well… it was not like the Sith had a true Emperor in quite awhile.
It was hard to truly realise it had been… years since the Zambranos, since the Shaper, since the Worm had failed them.
Though, considering that their current Emperor may indeed have been the Worm… it was hard to tell for certain.
He blinked, red eyes lost in thought, an uneasy pause having taken command of the room, broken only by her sigh.
And the last of her words…
"...If that is what Her Imperial Majesty commands... Srina."
A sharp shock went up his spine, every instinct in his body resisted the use of the name.
Yet, he has ever, remained a loyal subject.
Srina Talon
Not only physically, though many of them were that.
But simply… of age, of experience, of strength, of power.
If Malum stood upon the shoulders of giants to achieve the position that he knew had held.
Then these figures, were in themselves the giants that only grew taller, no matter how much they stagnated.
And that gave them certain… ability, as the golden eyes opposite stared so seamlessly through him.
He parsed his lips during the pause between his question and her answer, and her answer… he took mental notes of what was said, a common enough occurrence during their conversations. The Tsis’Kaar of his Mistress had kept copious notes of those of importance within the Order and beyond, the Empress was no exception.
And though the Tsis’Kaar’s aims had always been of preservation, to learn even more, was never in doubt. The first home must have been Eshan, the second home the Confederacy, it had been a long trip indeed for the third home to be here.
"We always fight, the Code says that peace is a lie, yet... if all we do is fight, fight against our external foes, fight against each other, fight against ourselves, what is the point of our existence? By the end of my lifetime I wish to see the galaxy secured under Sith rule, yet, is that in itself an implicit desire for peace? I have people, family, friends, to protect, I have ideals, beliefs, to march towards, I have myself, to fight for... but is there not something more to us than fighting?"
This was dangerous territory he knew, some might have even called it heretical. However, if there was one advantage in the strangeness of the Empress, it was… well, Malum might contend that the woman might not even bat an eye at the word, ‘heresy’.
Only for his mind to click closed, pausing a second to register the request. As she said, it was not the first time she had corrected him on this, and just like every time before he felt the innate wrongness in the request.
Malum had been taught his entire life, drilled into his mind the proper ways of etiquette and hierarchy. There were thousands of minutia involved in every interaction with a subordinate, a peer, and a superior.
In fact, this interaction was a relatively simple one, she was Her Imperial Majesty, and Malum was her loyal servant. She might have been relatively new to the role, but… well… it was not like the Sith had a true Emperor in quite awhile.
It was hard to truly realise it had been… years since the Zambranos, since the Shaper, since the Worm had failed them.
Though, considering that their current Emperor may indeed have been the Worm… it was hard to tell for certain.
He blinked, red eyes lost in thought, an uneasy pause having taken command of the room, broken only by her sigh.
And the last of her words…
"...If that is what Her Imperial Majesty commands... Srina."
A sharp shock went up his spine, every instinct in his body resisted the use of the name.
Yet, he has ever, remained a loyal subject.
Srina Talon
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Administrator
Tag:
Darth Malum of House Marr
Location: Jutrand
______________________________________________________
"I appreciate it, Malum. Identity is…lost…when an entire civilization has their eye in your soul. When they have decided who you are, what, you are, without even…Daring to speak something so small as a name."
It might have been a touch of selfishness but who she was mattered so much more than what people called her. A title was often ephemeral and temporary. Srina Talon, was not.
When the Echani offered a small piece of information about her history, he squirreled it away, as if she might somehow take it back. Perhaps out of curiosity. Perhaps, as a chip to one day use against her. Much of it was public knowledge, regardless, but there were very few who sought to look or listen for fact over fiction. Srina did not shy away from her strengths or her failures. She would not apologize for her nature nor would she lower herself to weep for those that might feel slighted because they themselves felt small. Malum existed in this time, in this place, and he would never know the lost teenage girl who wandered the streets of Coruscant plagued by visions that controlled her every move. With family, blood-kin, chasing her with the sharpest vibroblades that had ever existed. Calling for her return to Eshan to wed a murdering sociopath.
Or her head.
He would never see her powerless. He would never see her as someone that had suffered her rights being stripped away by the very people who ought to have protected her. He would never see her destitute. Starving. The Force…Driving her mad.
It had been a battle beyond all things to overcome that obstacle. Eshan had trained her body to become a machine made for combat and to a lesser degree, killing. Nothing had prepared her mind. It was her Master who saw a pebble of a woman on the street and polished the stone until it shone like diamond. He had lifted her. Walked for her—Until she could walk on her own. She had suffered beyond measure for a connection to the Force that now seemed to be second nature. So effortless.
As easy as drawing breath.
It was something that understandably…a much younger man, privileged, and beloved would be incapable of comprehending. It was the reason for her seemingly endless patience for any question or mood swing that overtook him. It was the reason she accepted every insult, every bit of slander from the outside world, because she had no expectation. Nor should she.
Malum saw her now. Complete—A force of nature.
Not the plain creature, the very mortal woman, hidden beneath layers of ice.
It wasn't his fault. She could not, would not, blame him for any ignorance. Rather…She would endeavor to teach rather than scold. Speak plainly rather than preach. He would learn…In time.
He correctly assessed that she didn't blink at his potentially "heretical" statement. Srina was as unorthodox as it came to the religious aspects of the Sith Order. She did not worship it. She did not seek some hidden throne in the vast expanse of the galaxy. His dreams were actually much larger than her own. She didn't seek power, for dominion over all, merely—The ability to safeguard what mattered.
Was what Malum described a desire for peace?
"No. Never...", she would respond eventually, just as lightly, with eyes that stayed distant. It was a dream that some she knew would have reached for, like a golden ring, but that eventuality merely meant that the universe had taken their spark. They were tired. "To be Sith is to accept discord. We will never truly be at peace because such a thing does not exist. Sith have a desire for more. An ache, a craving, that hungers and taints their actions for the worst when left unfed."
"At times, in search of that something, in search of more—They simply get too close to the sun. We have our passion, our aptitude, our need to ascend. That will never die…Even if the Sith rule all that the stars touch."
Peace was…Simply not an option. Even if the Sith Order swept the Galactic Alliance in a fortnight the war would never end. The focus would merely shift. With Sith fighting Sith, rather, than Sith fighting Jedi. The call for power was too seductive. Too alluring.
The Sith would never truly rest...Or they were not Sith at all.
The Heir
He hid all this feeling, this strain up his spine behind the warming balm that was her delicious tea. Once again he reminded himself to get the recipe for the draught from her.
Once again, he knew he would forget.
Was that a quality of the tea, or was it simply excuse to return here, moon after moon?
For the ever curious scion of the great Darth Marr, for once, Malum did not want to know the answer to that specific query.
Strangely enough, for one who so hated the phrase normally, it was easily thought of without much difficulty at all.
Somethings deserved to be mysteries.
The sip also provided him opportunity to think, to consider, when at most times such decisions held the weight of thousands of agents across thousands of systems, or the lives of thousands of subjects on a single planet.
Simply having the time to sip.
To listen.
To think.
It was a rare… a rare ease.
“…So who is Her Imp-” Malum parsed his lips, bringing the tea back down to the saucer, blackened robes swaying in the wind, the clank, revealing nothing, and too much, as he breathed out softly, “…So who is Lady Srina Talon? Malum queried, after all, he was confident of the answer he held to be true.
Darth Omnia, apprentice to Darth Metus.
She was the wife of Darth Empyrean.
She was the Empress of the Eleventh Sith Empire.
She was once the Exarch of the Confederacy of Independent Systems.
One of Eshan, not noble herself… but close enough to their royal family.
A flicker of orange lit against the red pools, memories that were not his, but were undeniably so, her form healing from injury, her disdain towards harm towards servants.
He knew little of the woman beyond her titles, beyond her position, all but the latter point. Yet, in the end did it matter? For all he enjoyed the tea.
For all he enjoyed this serenity.
Peace was a lie, and so was this.
However… would it cause any harm for him, or his position, to learn more from this… odd woman?
He quirked his eyebrow at her answer, even as he swallowed hollowly, the protrusion in his neck bobbing up and down, like the apples he had witnessed in some fairs of worlds he had visited during his times as an apprentice.
How long ago had that been?
He rapped his fingers along the table, a gentle drumming in consideration of an answer.
For her answer could only leave him with little hope.
"Wishing to not stagnate is a good thing, such is why that peace is a lie. For without conflict, without something to push us ever forward, we remain chained by inertia to be still. Yet... will it not be... more peaceful, once the cosmos is ours, Lady Srina? Will I-,” His eyes widened imperceptibly, as his breath grew harsher, only for the mask to slip back into place as if anything untoward had occurred at all, “Will we not finally be able to... rest? Or shall this be our entire lives, have we lost ourselves forever to this... to whatever this is... will there be happiness? Even moments at all to enjoy the happiness?" He followed her gaze, unsure why she seemed to be... looking so far away, hoping he had not said anything wrong. This all felt stranger strange, he was feeling far more open than he was normally.
And he could not help but feel that was a mistake.
Yet, it was always his way to march boldly towards inevitable mistake, with such high beamed confidence, only to scrape away, escaping defeat by the skin of his teeth.
Why did he do this to himself?
That was a mystery he would like solved.
Srina Talon
Once again, he knew he would forget.
Was that a quality of the tea, or was it simply excuse to return here, moon after moon?
For the ever curious scion of the great Darth Marr, for once, Malum did not want to know the answer to that specific query.
Strangely enough, for one who so hated the phrase normally, it was easily thought of without much difficulty at all.
Somethings deserved to be mysteries.
The sip also provided him opportunity to think, to consider, when at most times such decisions held the weight of thousands of agents across thousands of systems, or the lives of thousands of subjects on a single planet.
Simply having the time to sip.
To listen.
To think.
It was a rare… a rare ease.
“…So who is Her Imp-” Malum parsed his lips, bringing the tea back down to the saucer, blackened robes swaying in the wind, the clank, revealing nothing, and too much, as he breathed out softly, “…So who is Lady Srina Talon? Malum queried, after all, he was confident of the answer he held to be true.
Darth Omnia, apprentice to Darth Metus.
She was the wife of Darth Empyrean.
She was the Empress of the Eleventh Sith Empire.
She was once the Exarch of the Confederacy of Independent Systems.
One of Eshan, not noble herself… but close enough to their royal family.
A flicker of orange lit against the red pools, memories that were not his, but were undeniably so, her form healing from injury, her disdain towards harm towards servants.
He knew little of the woman beyond her titles, beyond her position, all but the latter point. Yet, in the end did it matter? For all he enjoyed the tea.
For all he enjoyed this serenity.
Peace was a lie, and so was this.
However… would it cause any harm for him, or his position, to learn more from this… odd woman?
He quirked his eyebrow at her answer, even as he swallowed hollowly, the protrusion in his neck bobbing up and down, like the apples he had witnessed in some fairs of worlds he had visited during his times as an apprentice.
How long ago had that been?
He rapped his fingers along the table, a gentle drumming in consideration of an answer.
For her answer could only leave him with little hope.
"Wishing to not stagnate is a good thing, such is why that peace is a lie. For without conflict, without something to push us ever forward, we remain chained by inertia to be still. Yet... will it not be... more peaceful, once the cosmos is ours, Lady Srina? Will I-,” His eyes widened imperceptibly, as his breath grew harsher, only for the mask to slip back into place as if anything untoward had occurred at all, “Will we not finally be able to... rest? Or shall this be our entire lives, have we lost ourselves forever to this... to whatever this is... will there be happiness? Even moments at all to enjoy the happiness?" He followed her gaze, unsure why she seemed to be... looking so far away, hoping he had not said anything wrong. This all felt stranger strange, he was feeling far more open than he was normally.
And he could not help but feel that was a mistake.
Yet, it was always his way to march boldly towards inevitable mistake, with such high beamed confidence, only to scrape away, escaping defeat by the skin of his teeth.
Why did he do this to himself?
That was a mystery he would like solved.
Srina Talon
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Administrator
Tag:
Darth Malum of House Marr
Location: Jutrand
______________________________________________________
Her head tilted at the inquiry. Birdlike. Her eyes reflected something that was…Not entirely human.
“Nothing, Malum.”
The tone carried with it a deep sense of finality. The distance in her that he worried over and wondered if he had been the cause was actually related to something else entirely. Eyes of burnished yellow swept down to linger on the hot cup of tea in her hands for a moment. She often served him spiced blood orange over traditional options because he seemed to enjoy it more. Every now and again she changed the beverage so that she could secretly discern what he preferred and what he disliked. “I am nothing…I am no one…”
The words weren’t self-deprecating nor were they mocking. They were a whisper in the winter sky that twisted and drifted into the abyss of a twilight evening. Delicate, like fresh-fallen snow. Her lips moved just slightly and a ghostly smile lingered at the kiss of her mouth. It lacked the emotion of someone who might burst into laughter but carried grace, the intellect of someone who knew things they shouldn’t know. It expressed an existential perspective. Srina often rejected the notion of a stagnant self and chose to remain fluid. She would be what she needed to be. “…I am also you.”
The Dark Side existed within everyone, even, those who thought of themselves without the gift. Sith had learned to harness it for their own devices and the pale woman seated across from him was no different. She embodied those shadowed aspects. Embraced…The shared nature of uncontrollable sentiment that lingered beneath a tranquil surface. She reflected the innermost thoughts, desires, and fears of those she encountered. Saw the true nature of others, revealing the parts of themselves that they tried to hide. It was a reminder that…they were all just ash and bone in the end.
Many felt her otherworldly eyes to be unnerving, because she saw too much, but the real fear was discovering that when they finally faced her…They were facing their innermost selves.
She made people think. Often, they did not appreciate it.
“But I shall not spoil you little Lord. The rest…You must discover more on your own.”
Srina let him speak his mind, her expression ever serene, but her focus remained on the words being spoken. Slowly…She leaned back in the small chaise that sat across from her guest. Long white hair cascaded over her shoulder like a moonlit waterfall and the saucer for her tea found itself seated on the armrest. Her presence settled. The scent a mix of sweet night florals and petrichor…Mixing with the almost vulnerable speech the Marr scion offered. Even in her ineptitude—She could feel his heart bear itself before her. Heavy, from strain.
Her eyes lingered.
"…You may rest now.", Srina reached up and tapped her shoulder, her tone chilly, but not unkind. It was sincere beneath layers of permafrost. He would feel an identical touch on his shoulder…Invisible…But there. "Nothing can hurt you here."
She seemed so very sure of that. The diminutive woman had protected him before…It seemed that she was willing to do it again. "Understand…You are not yet done growing. The cosmos is vast and wide...I am uncertain that it can be claimed, but we can make the galaxy grateful through the flames. You will find moments to hold on to, in time. People to trust. A place to rest your head when everything is said and done...”
“But the crown is not a victory. It is a burden. You must know, what you seek. Power always arrives at cost."
The Heir
He would have narrowed his eyes, instead, he brought the tea back to his lips, she was very easily pressing upon a point which was drove the annoyance forward, to be so vague, to hide answer behind riddle and puzzle, rather than simply providing the answer which would be the answer to his query.
Oh certainly he knew there was purpose in this, why give an answer, when the student could find it themselves?
It was a technique which he had used with
Ansisa
, in training her.
But... at least then there was at least enough information for an answer to be found, what exactly was he meant to do with the pieces of a puzzle in which it seemed there was no logic to the connections, that it was so vague that there was no true answer at all?
He allowed his mind to calm, as the citrus-flavoured warm liquid gently spilled down his throat.
She was nothing, she was no one, she was... him?
If it was anyone else he might have assumed they were trying to subtly insult him, even with her he could not be entirely sure that was not the case, after all she called him... Little Lord... he had gotten used to such snipes at his relative youth, in an Order of such giants of not simply height, rank, or experience, but too literally age, it was perhaps impossible for them to note, and then insult his own young age.
To them... he quite literally was a child.
A child that had advanced far quicker than anyone had ever expected.
Still at least giving her the benefit of the doubt, assuming she was not insulting him... at least in regards to the rest of what she had said... what was he to take away, from her words?
"...And what would Lady Srina, say I am?" Malum countered, certainly, there was much to be said of one reaching their own self-discovery, but as so often in topics of philosophy, there was more back and forth involved, and his curiosity was piqued enough that he wished to gaze into her... odd mind, for chalice.
He flinched at the unexpected touch, immediately snapping awake as the tea in his hand spilt out, his lips hissing as the cup was brought down to the table. He had allowed his senses to be dulled and diluted, his eyes having followed her form, followed the waving movements of long blonde white locks, and nostrils taken in by the smell of flowers and environs. His vision snapped to his shoulder... he had felt it... but unless a ghost stood beside him.
There was no hand.
Her words fluttered across the air, they could not be called kind, but it was at least honest, as if through the weight of her words, she was with full certainty declaring something to be objective truth, as Malum's eyes returned to hers, whom he was confident for a second had never left his form. His heart was racing, his breath hollow, his gaze upon her own shoulder, a hand...
...The same hand that was impossibly on his shoulder.
He was safe here she said... safe in the presence of the wife, of the man, who he ever still did plot against.
Her words... were apt, and he had to remind himself, though she was someone older than he, far more experienced... she had likely gone through much of what he had, some time in her life. People to trust... a place to rest your head... did he... have that?
"To bring about the future I wish... I will likely not get to enjoy it, will I?" Malum offered with a sad sort of smile, attempting to relax, as his mind could only race at how she had done such a thing without his notice... could she... Malum put the thought out of his mind, "You have no doubt been through so much, yet, you always seem to be so... tranquil, I hope you have people... places... to assuage your burdens, Your Im-..." He let out a wry sigh, "Lady Srina."
She saw through him far too much… but for what ends he could be far from certain.
Oh certainly he knew there was purpose in this, why give an answer, when the student could find it themselves?
It was a technique which he had used with
Ansisa
, in training her.But... at least then there was at least enough information for an answer to be found, what exactly was he meant to do with the pieces of a puzzle in which it seemed there was no logic to the connections, that it was so vague that there was no true answer at all?
He allowed his mind to calm, as the citrus-flavoured warm liquid gently spilled down his throat.
She was nothing, she was no one, she was... him?
If it was anyone else he might have assumed they were trying to subtly insult him, even with her he could not be entirely sure that was not the case, after all she called him... Little Lord... he had gotten used to such snipes at his relative youth, in an Order of such giants of not simply height, rank, or experience, but too literally age, it was perhaps impossible for them to note, and then insult his own young age.
To them... he quite literally was a child.
A child that had advanced far quicker than anyone had ever expected.
Still at least giving her the benefit of the doubt, assuming she was not insulting him... at least in regards to the rest of what she had said... what was he to take away, from her words?
"...And what would Lady Srina, say I am?" Malum countered, certainly, there was much to be said of one reaching their own self-discovery, but as so often in topics of philosophy, there was more back and forth involved, and his curiosity was piqued enough that he wished to gaze into her... odd mind, for chalice.
He flinched at the unexpected touch, immediately snapping awake as the tea in his hand spilt out, his lips hissing as the cup was brought down to the table. He had allowed his senses to be dulled and diluted, his eyes having followed her form, followed the waving movements of long blonde white locks, and nostrils taken in by the smell of flowers and environs. His vision snapped to his shoulder... he had felt it... but unless a ghost stood beside him.
There was no hand.
Her words fluttered across the air, they could not be called kind, but it was at least honest, as if through the weight of her words, she was with full certainty declaring something to be objective truth, as Malum's eyes returned to hers, whom he was confident for a second had never left his form. His heart was racing, his breath hollow, his gaze upon her own shoulder, a hand...
...The same hand that was impossibly on his shoulder.
He was safe here she said... safe in the presence of the wife, of the man, who he ever still did plot against.
Her words... were apt, and he had to remind himself, though she was someone older than he, far more experienced... she had likely gone through much of what he had, some time in her life. People to trust... a place to rest your head... did he... have that?
"To bring about the future I wish... I will likely not get to enjoy it, will I?" Malum offered with a sad sort of smile, attempting to relax, as his mind could only race at how she had done such a thing without his notice... could she... Malum put the thought out of his mind, "You have no doubt been through so much, yet, you always seem to be so... tranquil, I hope you have people... places... to assuage your burdens, Your Im-..." He let out a wry sigh, "Lady Srina."
She saw through him far too much… but for what ends he could be far from certain.
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Administrator
Tag:
Darth Malum of House Marr
Location: Jutrand
______________________________________________________
She remained impassive when his eyes narrowed, still, reclining back in the sunlit receiving area. The room was silent save for the gentle hum of distant technology from Jutrand itself. When he seemed to almost choke on his tea her gaze shifted away to allow him a moment to compose himself. The slight laugh that flowed from her pierced the quiet with something that was almost musical. It was not mocking…Merely a rarity. Like some forgotten treasure.
Did she unsettle him so deeply?
The Echani leaned forward slowly and picked up a dark linen to dry the hot tea that had been spilled on the table. Most would have called for a droid to handle the small mess, but she did so diligently, and without complaint. "Have you burned your hand?", she asked, though, he didn't seem to have gotten any of the amber liquid on his person. Regardless, once done, she reached for the teapot and poured him a new fresh cup.
His question wasn't ignored…
She was taking a moment to contemplate her reply. Anything worth saying was worth a few extra moments to ensure it came out as intended. "You are a spark in the darkness.", Srina began thoughtfully, though, she soon settled back into the lounge. As if she had never moved at all. The almost effortless way she composed herself seemed to usher in that while the young were always in such a hurry…She took her time. Measuring twice, cutting once.
"A potential yet to be fully realized. You are the sum of your desires, your fears, and your actions. You are the architect of your destiny. The shaper of your path. In you…I see glimmers of what has created a thousand Sith before you. And no…I do not refer to the shine of your amulet. I am not so easily blinded."
There was more. Much more…But "who" he was in essence was not for her to define—It was for him to discern. The journey of self-knowledge was a harrowing that all Sith would one day need to endure, and through that crucible, they forged their own identity. "Sith do not simply exist…Lest they stagnate. We have discussed this at great length. The fate of all our people is to become. The question you have posed to me is one that you must ask continuously yourself…Not merely 'who am I' but 'who will I become'?"
"…Even the greatest of us still have much to learn."
As evidenced by her habit of visiting the archives on the Malsheem as often as possible. Her presence unsettled the staff that Darth Carnifex employed more than anything else, so much so, that the title of the feared "Silver Dragon" had taken flight when she sat amongst a horde of tomes and scrolls. The fact that the Sith Empress chose to sit on the floor to read such sacred…Was the absolute definition of heretical behavior. They believed that she disrespected her station by not adhering to the expected protocols. That she disrespected their Dark Lord by not presenting herself in the way royalty should.
Srina thought they respected it too much…And continued to take over a small corner in the extensive library as she saw fit. Quietly, watching zealots nearly lose their minds because her imperial knees touched cold obsidian floors.
When Malum spoke next…Her hawkish eyes would return to him. Something in them seemed to intimately comprehend this notion of sacrifice. There was a profound sadness in her. As if the query had unknowingly shot the wings from a dove…And it knew not why. She breathed in deeply before exhaling…Her head slowly shaking. Srina would not lie to him. She never, lied.
"No.", she responded simply, again, not unkind...But honest. "You will not."
"The future you crave is a utopia made of creatures powerful enough to move mountains. To crack planets. It is a journey that is not for the faint of heart."
Her brow fixed just slightly when he described her as tranquil. Was she? "I can assure you that there is a storm in me...It is only...hard to see.", Srina noted with some level of effort. She could provide sage advice to others but seemed to be at a loss when it came to herself. Her emotions had been stunted on Eshan. She had been raised a warrior to think before all else. Never feel. She did not comprehend emotion as easily as it came for others…But when it did arrive? When the perfect frozen visage of regality and strength cracked? Broke? It was…Horrific. There was no fanfare. There was no indecision…It was pure, raw, and unstoppable. "I was trained from the cradle to hold a sword. To never, ever, let my enemy see my weakness. It makes expression..."
"Tedious."
His concern drew her eyes back toward him. Who did she have in this world? There were a fair few…But none that Malum would really know or understand. "I have my husband. I know he seems...Dead. Lifeless. But, he is not. Empyrean is…"
She did not have the words for which to describe her heart.
Her home.
The Heir
It had been fortuitous indeed, or at the very least some show of the unconscious, instinctive training which a Sith underwent that though the hot tea had spilt across the table, none of the amber liquid had landed on his skin.
What he was far more focused on in the end was her laughter fluttering across the air, any wonder at the sound which he had never seen drawn forth from the Empress was tempered by the fact that she was in fact laughing at him. He let out a breath, centring himself back upon his form, his eyes were lidless, his lips thin, his expression softening.
Yet entirely still.
He offered a simple nod as his cup was refilled, "No, I am quite well, thank you, Lady Talon." Her position afforded her the ability to manoeuvre him into this position which he so hated, yet, even in this game of masks, there were ways for daggers to slip the night.
Yet, as was his wont, his attention was quick to be transfixed upon her words, these words of wisdom from an elder, that despite any annoyance, any frostiness which had now taken his shroud, could not be ignored, even if he wanted to.
And in this case, he certainly did not want to.
In one moment she mocked, in the next she complimented.
It was a troubling thing, for unlike those who were two-faced in such, she was entirely... singular stony-faced in all that she said, in all that she did.
"Your Im- My Lady honours me so... I can only hope to take your words to heart, and be far more than a spark in the darkness," For what he desired, he would need to be the flame, he would need to be the veritable inferno.
Still, even as the mask was back upon his face, how easily she saw through him to his amulet, was enough to dust pink along his cheeks, even as his fingers drifted to grasp around the ashes. This gift, from a man who...
...Who so utterly confused him even now.
For a man who Malum so feared, who Malum was convinced hated him... yet, the man who had granted him this ultimate boon... the man who held his fate in his hand, and even if the woman before him had pressed down on the scales, it had been the Emperor who at the end had saved him, and Ali-
Darth Strosius
.
Her next words... she was frank and honest with him, such he could claim from others... but, to some degree either they simply did not know how to have conversations like this, or still sought to protect his feelings.
Or perhaps that was false all unto itself, when had he ever confided to another of all that was... so difficult in his life?
A sad sort of smile broke his mask, a faint glimmer in his orbs, could he call it acceptance? Perhaps, but that did not feel correct, to accept was to be resigned.
And for all he had done, for all he wished to do... when had he been resigned to anything?
"You spoke of being a gardener not so long ago... do you believe me capable of taking that journey... or do you believe that I, having taken the first steps have already begun, and that is why you... watch my growth?" He had many theories for all she did, yet, any firm answer eluded him, mostly of course, as he could not ask her directly... all up until now.
He quirked his eyebrows as she mentioned the difficulty, it was... odd, to see one who commanded a room so easily, seemingly be... confused, "You will not think me the same, for it leaks out of me... but I was much the same, we were trained to control our face, to make it as much a mask as the physical ornament, to never let the enemy see what we felt, for what we felt was weakness."
He was letting the mask down, far too much.
"I... yes, the Emperor is very much alive... any notion of death, certainly only from his prodigious ability to kill no doubt." Memories that were not his filled in some blanks of Maliphant... Rhys... and Srina, but the full story was written somewhere else, how so did, the Corpse and this Ethereal beauty come to be?
"I am glad you both have each other... I..." His mind went to the Moridi- Mandalorian he met upon Archais, his mind went to
Adeline Noctua
whom they had departed on good enough terms, his mind went to
Ansisa
... their relationship far from proper. Red eyes haunted him, of theirs... always haunting.
"...I cannot claim to have that."
Srina Talon
What he was far more focused on in the end was her laughter fluttering across the air, any wonder at the sound which he had never seen drawn forth from the Empress was tempered by the fact that she was in fact laughing at him. He let out a breath, centring himself back upon his form, his eyes were lidless, his lips thin, his expression softening.
Yet entirely still.
He offered a simple nod as his cup was refilled, "No, I am quite well, thank you, Lady Talon." Her position afforded her the ability to manoeuvre him into this position which he so hated, yet, even in this game of masks, there were ways for daggers to slip the night.
Yet, as was his wont, his attention was quick to be transfixed upon her words, these words of wisdom from an elder, that despite any annoyance, any frostiness which had now taken his shroud, could not be ignored, even if he wanted to.
And in this case, he certainly did not want to.
In one moment she mocked, in the next she complimented.
It was a troubling thing, for unlike those who were two-faced in such, she was entirely... singular stony-faced in all that she said, in all that she did.
"Your Im- My Lady honours me so... I can only hope to take your words to heart, and be far more than a spark in the darkness," For what he desired, he would need to be the flame, he would need to be the veritable inferno.
Still, even as the mask was back upon his face, how easily she saw through him to his amulet, was enough to dust pink along his cheeks, even as his fingers drifted to grasp around the ashes. This gift, from a man who...
...Who so utterly confused him even now.
For a man who Malum so feared, who Malum was convinced hated him... yet, the man who had granted him this ultimate boon... the man who held his fate in his hand, and even if the woman before him had pressed down on the scales, it had been the Emperor who at the end had saved him, and Ali-
Darth Strosius
.Her next words... she was frank and honest with him, such he could claim from others... but, to some degree either they simply did not know how to have conversations like this, or still sought to protect his feelings.
Or perhaps that was false all unto itself, when had he ever confided to another of all that was... so difficult in his life?
A sad sort of smile broke his mask, a faint glimmer in his orbs, could he call it acceptance? Perhaps, but that did not feel correct, to accept was to be resigned.
And for all he had done, for all he wished to do... when had he been resigned to anything?
"You spoke of being a gardener not so long ago... do you believe me capable of taking that journey... or do you believe that I, having taken the first steps have already begun, and that is why you... watch my growth?" He had many theories for all she did, yet, any firm answer eluded him, mostly of course, as he could not ask her directly... all up until now.
He quirked his eyebrows as she mentioned the difficulty, it was... odd, to see one who commanded a room so easily, seemingly be... confused, "You will not think me the same, for it leaks out of me... but I was much the same, we were trained to control our face, to make it as much a mask as the physical ornament, to never let the enemy see what we felt, for what we felt was weakness."
He was letting the mask down, far too much.
"I... yes, the Emperor is very much alive... any notion of death, certainly only from his prodigious ability to kill no doubt." Memories that were not his filled in some blanks of Maliphant... Rhys... and Srina, but the full story was written somewhere else, how so did, the Corpse and this Ethereal beauty come to be?
"I am glad you both have each other... I..." His mind went to the Moridi- Mandalorian he met upon Archais, his mind went to
Adeline Noctua
whom they had departed on good enough terms, his mind went to
Ansisa
... their relationship far from proper. Red eyes haunted him, of theirs... always haunting."...I cannot claim to have that."
Srina Talon
Administrator
Tag:
Darth Malum of House Marr
Location: Jutrand
______________________________________________________
There were moments when Malum of House Marr seemed lost to contradiction.
He looked upon her, frequently, with equal parts distrust and value…And as her laugh tumbled into streamlined silence he would find little evidence of any ridicule. Her perspective was often far more distant than most could comprehend. She had the benefit of viewing the world from the perspective of an eagle…While small, flightless birds, scattered from the eyes of a predator.
They never took into account that whilst she placed discomfort behind their sternum…She left a feeling of horror, dread, and fear for their enemies. It warned them away, leaving all in her domain relatively untouched. If she had wanted to mock and insult this young Sith Lord—She would have done so.
This…Was not that.
Srina, however, was no stranger to appearing as a paradox. For that there was often a lot of latitude gifted to those around her. Those with sharp tongues, schemes, and dark designs would feel even more perplexed when she ignored their behavior and pressed them toward betterment instead. She was brutally honest and knew of no other way. It made her a poor politician…But Srina had never learned to lie and saw it as a fruitless, cowardly endeavor. It expressed a lack of honor and intellectual prowess that offended her very esoteric sensibilities.
The pale woman also noticed everything about him. Every flinch. Every frown. Not through strange obsession but because it was how her people communicated. To see the unseen. To respond in silence that was so full…Communication overflowed. Malum, was uncomfortable with certain aspects of this discussion. Srina changed the subject and let it settle on something more personal about herself to set him more at ease. It was an equivalent exchange, his comfort, for her discomfort. "Eshan…My homeworld…Is full of beautiful things and beautiful people—"
"—If you like the look of one type of beauty. Our genetic structure was modified by the Arkanian's centuries ago and now... We all look the same. I look identical to my mother. And my sisters...", she offered up lightly, her words adept at painting a picture versus merely telling..."Only other Echani can tell us apart when we get together. With so little identity left…We learned to speak through combat and body language...Words are a burden..."
"But even in a hall full of women identical to me...Empyrean always knew me. He never wavered…not once. Not even when one of my sisters deliberately tried to confuse him with a test to his devotion. It is irony... He is…was… Arkanian."
Her truest love. Sprung, from her truest hate.
When Malum finally asked what it was that she saw in him she could instantly sense the deeper well of it all. Srina sat quietly while she contemplated on how to answer... On what questions to address. And in what order. Her eyes lingered on his person and she found herself taking in his posture, the sad smile, and for the briefest moment—She had the desire to go against her beliefs.
To lie to him. Sweetly, so that he might not suffer the weight of reality.
But it was a foolish notion. Withholding everything…It would only make him suffer more when the time came. Srina couldn't share the whole of it yet but she could begin preparations.
"One day...Neither Empyrean nor I will be here. I know how you feel about him...But when that day comes... It will not be a relief. There will be a hole in the world. Our enemies will see a chance to win, sense weakness, and seek to exploit it by punishing those who have been left behind. I see possibility in you and sense much strength... I cannot speak of your path... But my path is to ensure you and others like you don't miss the opportunity to become what you were meant to be."
"I aim to ensure that when I am gone.... You will be here. I aim to ensure that you will have the chance to choose your future. But... If you're asking why I protect you specifically?"
She smiled. It was pale and saddened... Barely there. So ghostly that he would miss it entirely if he wasn't paying attention.
"You taste of fire."
It was ironic for a woman so cold. Enigmatic, toward what she meant. If prompted she might explain further but it would appear, in her quietude, that it made perfect sense to her. The conversation drifted and her expression shifted again while her hands folded in her lap. The mention of lacking a life partner wasn't at all surprising. He was Sith, young, privileged, and male. He had only just begun to live…
True companionship took time and sacrifice.
"But…You do have something. Someone. I had hoped you for Quinn... But... Tell me of her?"
Love was tragically difficult to find.
The Heir
He knew who he was, he was confident enough of that, he was not when he was younger... or perhaps, in fact, he was more sure when he was younger, he was the Heir of the great Darth Marr, the scion of a great and noble house, all those years hence, both those facts remained true, despite all the battles, all the encounters which might have claimed his mortality and unmade him.
But ever since, all those years later, he was other things as well, apprentice to Darth Ophidia, apprentice to one of the Triumvirs of the Sith Order...
...Malum.
Turned Darth Malum.
And now, Emperor of a world, which he hid and called King, Lord of the Tsis'Kaar after doing an action which would have laid him cursed, born out of actions unforgivable. He was such a great many things, Yet as titles and names left him by the wayside... was he a great many things? What was he?
In the end, the answer which always reached him, was as simple as it was unhelpful, he was Malum. Had not the joy of that... not realisation, but simplicity, been what had always brought his thoughts back to Archais? Brought them to Rapture and Alvaria too.
To the one who knew him when he was but an apprentice.
To the one who knew him before he committed an act so vile.
To the one who knew him as he was now.
He blinked away such thoughts as the Empresses' words fluttered across his eardrums, it was a story he knew, even if he had never looked into it much further, apart from the Kaminoans, there were no finer geneticists and cloners in the galaxy than the Arkanians, and it would be Eshan that they would make their experiments.
He Truly... if all women of the world looked like the Empress, he could not help but imagine it was a beautiful world indeed, and it likely explained the resemblance between the Empress and her goddaughter... how foolish his thoughts had been in their first meeting to make that connection of their familiarity, rather than what his brain had concluded.
Still, even as his mind mused as it often wont, his eyes stayed upon the Empress, listening keenly, as strangely... even as little from her expression changed, which she ironically explained the cause of, she... opened herself up to him, in the same regard which he had to her... yet, where he feared such openness.
She did it as easily as one took a breath.
And he was caught in rapt attention, imagining the very scene she described, sisters identical to the Empress, attempting to fool the Emperor... fool the Emperor who in those days long past was neither Emperor nor corpse.
That he was Arkanian was the greatest irony, enough to widen his eyes, when Malum already knew it was the case.
It was funny, it was tragic, it was... beautiful... as if the galaxy themselves had played a joke upon them, all that they had gone through, all which they still had to go through.
He knew in some regard, the galaxy was playing a joke on them.
"...My lady and His Emperor certainly have lived interesting lives," It was a nothing statement, but what could he truly say to all which was said, he was so broadly curious of all that they were... what was written by grim Tsis'Kaar scholars, seemed unable to put it to justice, in comparison to the voice who bore witness to it all.
How he loved history, but now, how he so longed for story.
They were back to quietude, as she stared at him blinking, consideration being given to all that he had said, he suspected, as any fear he might have developed for the hot tea disappeared, coiling fingers around the handle, and bringing it to his lips. It still had little right to taste so good.
Her next words, brought the cup back to coaster, he had suddenly lost his thirst... or perhaps he had simply quenched it well enough.
For all which he had planned, for all which he wanted, he had never quite... he had never quite imagined a world without Darth Empyrean, oh it was a lofty ideal, to bring down the immortal tyrant who either actively encouraged or passively witnessed all which was wrong within their Order.
Yet, for all which he wanted his downfall.
All of which he had imagined his death.
What would come after, as it was so often the case... had not been considered.
Would it not be relief to be free of the fear which so held him, hostage, in his heart? Would it not be relief to free the Order from the chains of an immortal tyrant? Would it not be relief to... bring a bright new future for all those who needed his protection, all those who needed saving, all who needed his liberation.
His people.
They were scared.
Yet, he knew that the Empress spoke truth as well, for all his failings, he was the bulwark that held their enemies at bay, for all they tyrannised their own subjects, compelled them to servitude, what better protectors, which more powerful warriors, did they have to guard the gates of the Empire against those who were not Sith.
So it was his path, to grow more powerful, to be stronger, to be better, not only to overcome them.
But to be ready to replace them.
Yet, in all his musings, had he ever wanted the woman before him to be gone? Never... never... he realised.
It was... an odd realisation.
An odder one as she continued to speak, it was a perplexing, contradictory message, she aimed to ensure that when she was gone... that he remained. A new gardener to raise the next generation of Sith? A guardian to hold the gates against all those enemies who were eager and waiting for their weakness.
She wished to make certain he would not miss the opportunity to be what he was meant to be. She wished him the chance to choose his future.
...Would she feel so strongly, when who he was meant to be... The future he chose...
Was to kill her husband?
No words, which he could prepare left his lips, how he so wished to speak, to say something, for he was meant to speak, he was meant to say something, rather than so obviously lost in his thoughts. Yet, he knew he could neither say the truth, nor lie, for no matter what she said, revealing this... revealing this was too much, no matter how much she could assume, no matter how much she knew.
Yet, in the end, that would not end up mattering at all, for her final words, delivered from smiling lips, as sombre as unshed tears, were enough to throw all other thought, all other consideration away.
"...I taste of fire?" He questioned, evidently confused, she had said he was a spark in the darkness, he took it to be some metaphor of potential... but now... of all which he had used hard titles for who he was... this was so... arbitrary.
And after all, she said, he needed to know what it meant.
As she spoke the last of her words. Three pairs of red eyes stared into his heart.
"...Lady Varanin's heart belongs to another, and I wish her the greatest joy and happiness in who she has found," Even if who she had found had far too much of a propensity to not respect private property when it came to doorways, still, it was not as if he did not understand the appeal, "...As for my life... I have never loved in such a manner, my lady... my love is reserved for my family, they are the only ones I could care so deeply for." The only ones he could care for, love was a fairytale, when he would marry only for the good of those who he shared blood.
Those fellow heirs of the great Darth Marr.
Srina Talon
Mentioned:
Darth Ophidia
,
Adeline Noctua
,
Elise Ahana-Gwyneira
,
Ansisa
,
Quinn Varanin
,
Darth Empyrean
,
Alina Tremiru
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Administrator
"We have lived. Nothing more, nothing less."
Srina Talon observed Malum of House Marr with the same calm intensity she had used throughout this conversation and every other. Her fierce golden orbs, cold and unfeeling, missed nothing. She had come to expect these moments of introspection from him, the subtle tightening of his brow, the shifting of emotions that he tried…So hard to suppress. As if that might somehow keep it off her radar and therefore not part of the discussion. The weight of his lineage sat heavily upon him, not only that, but his meteoric rise. He seemed to feel…Undeserving.
He had the intuition of a Sith in him…Though she noted that he often found himself at odds with that intuition. It made him hesitate, and that, made him…Vulnerable. It made him a mark for those that would seek his downfall for their own gain.
The alabaster woman would not have that.
As he pondered her words, she remained unmoving, still as stone. There was no impatience within her. The winsome Echani knew how to wait and had learned the power of silence long ago. She had spent decades muddling through emotion to unravel the knots in others, and she could feel the unspoken question that rest neatly between them. The curiosity that sparked behind his eyes—what did she see in him? And more than that—what did she see when she looked at him?
It was a question many had likely asked of a mentor, and yet, it was not one easily answered. Srina did not perceive people in the way they expected. She saw past titles, past the artifice of rank and station. For her, to see someone meant to witness the threads of their potential, to sense what might be—if they could only move beyond the limitations they set for themselves. Malum, for all his strength, for all his titles and ambition, still carried shadows of doubt. Not in his power, but in his path. He could not yet see his future clearly and the Sith Empress could only watch over him while he struggled toward it. Step by step.
She could not tell him his path, not, so plainly. He would learn nothing…
And that didn't suit either of them.
Aureate eyes bore holes into him while he seemed to consider her statements. Almost as if she could see the things he didn't want her to know…The true purpose he thought he held. It would have been a shock to Malum, to know, that she knew for a fact that Empyrean would be destroyed sooner than later. It would be paralyzing to understand that she knew intimately…how her heart would be broken, sundered, ripped from her chest, and left to rot…
Her only love…After all this time…Would indeed cease to exist.
But not from his hands. Srina, would be the one to end the unlife of that which she treasured more than the air she breathed. It was only her children, duty, that would keep her from following him into the grave and that connection was something Empyrean counted on. Malum would hopefully never know that her sacrifice would steal his purpose…But one day?
It would come to pass.
When Malum finally spoke, his voice was laced with inquisitive confusion. Her lips remained set in the same far away smile he had noted with edges that held the barest touch of wistful sadness. As if she knew things that only the cold space between stars could whisper. As if—The explanation was as obvious, as plain, as the existence of gravity.
If only he looked a little deeper, listened, a little closer.
Srina did not answer for quite some time.
She allowed the silence to stretch between them, her pale features remaining unreadable, though there was something delicate in her expression—a near imperceptible shift. For all the frigidness she projected, there was a warmth within her that was reserved for few, a depth of emotion she had buried beneath layers of control and discipline. For someone like Malum, however, someone she had chosen, those layers could occasionally thin, enough for him to catch a glimpse of what lay beneath.
It would feel as if he were peering beneath the shield of a frozen lake.
The seemingly diminutive woman leaned back slightly in her seat, hands folding in her lap, with the same fluid grace that characterized every move she made. "…When I speak of fire…", Srina offered slowly, finally, her voice low and reflective, "I do not refer to a fire that rages wildly, consuming everything in its path without purpose. What I perceive in you is…Different. It's not purely destruction, not, purely chaos…although with the right motivations…you could easily become an agent of both."
Her eyes met his, and for a moment, the golden hue of corruption that tainted once silver orbs would seem almost translucent. As if she were once again looking at something inside him. Something…Real. Almost, touchable. Her hand unfolded from the other and her palm faced the ceiling. Within the softest circle of it a small ball of fire began to form. It took the form of a wingless dragon, a snake, as it wound comfortably in on itself. She moved her hand forward and the small creature floated toward him with…Contentment. Waiting for Malum to catch it. "Does it frighten you?"
Certainly, not.
But...She wasn't talking about the snake.
Within the manifestation he would find little blue sparks, chemical reactions, that made it beautiful to watch. It would feel warm. Non-threatening. "This…Is you. How I see you. A hearth fire. Steady and strong…with a source that is everlasting. It can protect as much as it can harm."
"This spark is…not for the world to see—Not yet. It is not meant to scorch or annihilate in a moment of insanity. It sleeps within you, growing, slow, and deliberate…Biding time. It knows when to remain hidden…And when to rise."
The snake would perk up suddenly, waking, from a dreamless slumber. It would grow several times its size and take on the appearance of a true wyvern before spitting fire at an invisible foe. Dangerous…Of course. But was that the primary function? His primary function?
Her words lingered in the air, carrying with them the depth of her understanding. She watched him closely, knowing he might still not fully grasp her meaning. Sith were often thought of as creatures of destruction, beings who only sought power through chaos and violence. It was partially true, however, her own actions often betrayed what a member of the Order was supposed to be. She could be violent. She could, be cruel.
But she could also be…Understanding. Patient. Protective. Their path was not a "one-size" fits all article of clothing that anyone could simply wear with impunity.
"Your flame is not innately that of destruction…But of becoming. You are not meant to burn brightly, Malum, but to burn long. To endure. And one day, when the moment comes, when the galaxy least expects it…", her voice trailed off into a soft whisper, "That is a flame that will be…unstoppable..."
And he would know exactly where to find it.
As Malum spoke of love—how his heart belonged only to his family, how he could care for no one beyond them—Srina felt a flicker of understanding. It was not an unusual sentiment for a Sith. Love was dangerous, a vulnerability that could be exploited. But she could not help but find the sentiment tragic in how mistaken it was.
Love was bound for more than just a bond of blood.
He would be…Helpless, when it struck, if that was his perspective.
"You have never…," she repeated, her voice thoughtful, as if tasting the words, "Perhaps…not yet."
Hawkish golden eyes remained fixed on him, unwavering, while she pulled the flame dragon back from his grasp. It wrapped around her arm but didn't seem to be causing harm. It was almost as if it was just going back to sleep, sinking, back into her skin. As if it had never been. "…But love is not always a choice. It can find you when you least expect it, in places you never thought to look."
There was no judgment in her words, no pressure. Srina knew well the difficulty of love. She had loved twice, deeply, and fiercely, and in both instances that affection had forever changed the course of her future. But it was not something that could be forced or willed into existence. It could be resisted…But it could not be denied.
Not, unless the individual enjoyed great suffering and malcontent.
Her thoughts drifted for a moment to
Darth Empyrean
as they often did. Wrapping around he who had become her one, her only, and her paradox. Her love for him was eternal, defying reason, defying logic. Perhaps, in some ways, it mirrored the fire she saw in Malum—steady, unyielding, but dangerous when provoked."There are times when the heart can sing with one…Or with many. I dare not assume otherwise about by godchild or anyone else.", ignoring, how ironic it was to say when she herself was fully consumed by one. It was a rather progressive thought from one so-seemingly self-contained. But…She had many thoughts that others would likely not associate with her.
"You do realize…You are more than your titles, Malum.", Srina intoned after a pause, not certain, if she was reading between the lines correctly. He seemed beholden to his family, glued, in such a way that Srina ought to have been …But it was not to be. Eshan, for now, was not in need of her. The Sith Order had yet to be free of discourse since the moment her husband seized the title of Emperor and lay the duty of Empress at her feet. "…You are more than the legacy of your ancestors. You are more than the expectations of those who came before you. You are you. And that… is enough."