The Beautiful Planet

[Têhra]

The gentle pitter patter of dainty feet against the clammy polished stone floor rang a hollow echo into the lavish nursery, the dull hiss of the entrance sealing up sounding more like a friendly welcome rather than an explicit warning. No one could enter the greenhouse without a breather, no one but Têhra. The nursery, shimmering with mossy greens to vibrant golds, was a beautiful and deadly addition to the manor, a microcosm of all things leafy and toxic. The reflective glass panels encasing the greenhouse, as thick as the teenager's thighs and as clean as a clinic, created an illusion of vegetative eternity, a garden that expanded into infinity and housed no one else but the skinny bastard and the exceptionally well maintained variety of flora.

Kewafi flowers, in full bloom and gently swaying beneath the regulated breeze, sprouted in a sea of sapphire and cerulean, swaying delightfully as the porcelain skinned girl tip toed alongside them. A monstrous stingwort, encased in an ornate silver pot, gradually shivered as Têhra's shadow slipped across its patchy and violet facade,a low hum reverberating into its polished base as the girl tenderly ran a finger atop one of its many fan-like leaves. If dancing was her escape then the nursery was her pride and joy, a living and breathing paradise that she'd somehow acclimatized to at a very young age. The maelstrom of spores, dancing in the lukewarm air, did little to bother the teenager and it was this exact resilience to what could've easily incapacitated, or even killed, a fully grown male that gave the girl full access into the luscious green haven.

Each plant was a journey in itself, a battle of wills as the girl endeavored to learn, cultivate and adapt her skills in regards to their care and their maintenance. Whilst their uses could only ever be used with malicious intent, thanks to her aunt, Têhra could not deny the innate beauty she found in her garden of death.

It was peaceful, or so it should've been.

"Did you welcome our guests like I told you to do so?" A prim voice uttered through a nearby holo, shattering the illusion of tranquility as the intangible visage of Zihanna Syle'a herself sparked to life. Even as a floating head, Têhra still struggled to stare at the woman. Black hair, tightly coiled into a bun and adorned with an intricate head piece made of silver and jade, crowned the head of the immaculate, iridescent and intimidating features of a woman the teenager had been taught to fear ever since her first day inside the manor. Arched brows topped striking grey blue eyes, so pale they were that no light seemed to escape the Ducha's pervasive, hawkish leer. Supple red lips, never evoking more than a sneer or a small grin, were curled in a look of annoyance and the low, silken voice that slithered off of her tongue told the bastard all she needed to know about her aunt's current mood.

She was bored.

Such a fact was a very, very bad thing for anyone the woman thought worthy enough to entertain her.

"Are you listening to me?" A tempered snarl painted Zihanna's lips, ivory teeth clenching tightly.

"Y-Yes Mistress. They seem comfortable and...and I think they'll enjoy their stay. They are very thankful to you for-"

"Yes I know." The woman uttered flatly, a low muted sigh escaping the holo before the vision glared at the girl. Even though Zihanna was well away from the garden Têhra still felt that same heavy sensation tug at her insides, the childlike fear she possessed of her aunt. "I want you to join me for dinner tonight. Yes, you heard me, you will sit down with our guests and play nice, eat yummy food and make small talk. Am I understood?" Zihanna sneered, apparently knowing where to find her timid niece's face even if she were just a holo.

"But..."

"Do not make this worse for yourself darling, this is a privilege. Now get changed." Was all Zihanna uttered before her visage disappeared back into nothingness. Têhra was left motionless for a moment, eyes blankly staring at the empty space where her Mistress once glowered and only stopped herself once she felt a dull sting erupt in her lower lip. The coppery taste of blood kissed her tongue as her teeth bounced off of the wounded flesh, the girl's bad habit once again scarring her in the midst of what could've easily been considered a polite exchange between herself and teh woman who owned her. Alas, the girl knew Zihanna too well to know that her presence at dinner was too much of a rarity to be a good thing, especially considering the fact that there were guests present...guests she actually found intriguing and without any need for sneaky business.

What was her aunt playing at?

***

Several agonizing minutes later and garbed in a simple gold trimmed backless white slip, Têhra anxiously waited by the entrance to the dining hall with her lower lip once again firmly nestled between her teeth. There was a good enough reason for her nerves this time. With raven black hair styled into a simple braid and feet adorned in dainty beige slippers, the girl looked a noticeable bit more clean and respectable than the first time the young duo came across her. Still, she knew that no matter how hard she dressed up her aunt would look like the literal embodiment of beauty and make her look like a sorry little child in comparison.

No doubt one of the male servants would have escorted Darius and Mediha to the dining hall and the bastard hoped to whatever power that reigned that the night would go in any direction other than what her nagging paranoia was telling her it would be.

Sucking in a deep breath and digging her thumbs into the palms of her hands, Têhra turned the corner into the open dining hall...prepared for the worst.

[member="Mediha"] [member="Darius"]

 

[Mediha]

Mediha had been seated next to Darius, close enough for her to be uncomfortable at his proximity, but likely at what would be considered quite a respectable distance for the people of Hapes. Zihanna and her security chief, an expectedly beautiful blonde man named Kanah, were already present when they were presented to the room. Mediha was, thankfully, placed on the outside seat, so that Darius served a buffer between herself and their hostess. His status as a Jedi was much higher than hers as... companion of the Jedi.

Mediha focused herself on the small appetizer-style food that had been placed before them to keep them occupied before the meal. Mediha imagined it was useful in any number of political and polite ways during dinner parties, and she used it to keep herself from having to do more than listen to the discussion going on between the others at the table. Zihanna had pretty much ignored her; Kanah gave her a bit more attention. Mediha simply kept her magick closed away and her expression empty; the only thing she allowed herself was a sweep of her magick over each food item she took. Zihanna did not wish them well; they were here only because it served a purpose for her somehow. Mediha had no intention of being surprised by whatever that was.

It wasn't long before movement came to the door again, and Mediha turned her head to watch [member="Têhra"] enter the room. Her appearance was different, but the change was clearly related to her mistress in some way. Her lip sported a new scab and, in spite of her graceful movements, Mediha thought her discomfort was as apparent as it had been earlier. This was not a place she belonged. What, then, was she doing there? Mediha flicked her eyes to Kanah, who was watching her, held his gaze for a moment, then switched to [member="Darius"] .

 

[Cedric Grayson]

Darius was about as well dressed as you might expect a Jedi to be. He was clad from head to toe in his traditional robes - they served as formal attire as much as they were combat gear. The Hapans might have thought it looked a bit on the tacky side, but then Darius was never the type for extravagant clothing. That was all well enough considering [member="Mediha"] was dressed similarly. It was better they matched than one outclassed the other in terms of style.

"Thank you for having us m'lady," Darius bowed his head in a show of respect toward Zihanna. He really didn't need the woman getting upset with him. It seemed that [member="Têhra"] was not the only beauty within this household, though the young bastard stole the padawan's attentions far more than her mistress. He was young, the boy was going to look. That didn't mean he was going to act upon his private thoughts.

Smiling, he turned his attentions back to the appetizers set out for them. Darius chewed thoughtfully as he considered why they had been called here. There was the possibility Zihanna simply wanted to meet the young man and woman who were making her palace their home for a week, though that seemed unlikely. Tehra had described her in a much more overbearing light - Darius hadn't expected to see her during any of their stay here.

Yet here she was.

"Tehra has been extremely helpful. She's a lovely woman." He flashed the young woman a smile. It was a warm one; one meant to put her at ease. Naive as Darius might be, he was not blind. He knew there was something going on here, as he and Mediha had discussed. The problem was figuring out what it was.

 

[Têhra]

Tehra could only begin to guess why her aunt had summoned her for dinner, an occasion that was almost always solely reserved for the Duch'a,her daughters and any prominent figure in and around the manor. It was no place for a bastard that was for sure. Blue eyes glanced at the odd cocktail of individuals present at the small banquet, the briefest of looks given to the woman who'd so graciously invited her for the private dinner. Darius and Mediha were dressed modestly, a sight that was seldom seen in the presence of Zihanna, but the girl shook it off as nothing more than cultural naivety and offered the duo a thin lipped smile as she tip toed over to Kanah, the blonde man cocking a brow at her late entry.

Taking a seat next to the handsome security chief, the dainty bastard kept her eyes firmly glued onto the dishes adorning the table in the hopes that she'd simply melt into the background and eat whatever was given to her. She did not want to be here, let alone suffer the awkwardness of witnessing her vindictive aunt toy with her guests. What made it even worse was the presence of Kanah, a man who, by all definitions, was the Duch'a's most persistent bed warmer and an individual whose loyalty to the woman was as admirable as it was worrisome. Several times had the girl experienced the wrath of her Mistress through the hands of Kanah, the swift but simple fellow ensuring the dancer was granted whatever punishment her aunt deemed fitting.

Alas, the girl could not hate him. He was just doing his job.

Cheeks flared with a soft pink as the young Jedi's compliment broke the atmosphere, his sincerity especially indecorous in the presence of Zihanna and the teenager found herself slouch further into her seat as she robotically chewed on a leafy parfait. She was too on edge to enjoy the treat, let alone return the smile the young man gave her. Têhra could not afford to be the center of attention, not now anyways.

"Oh yes, she's a good little girl isn't she?" Zihanna mused with a luscious red grin painted on her lips, pale eyes studying the young Jedi before she elicited a melodic chuckle. The sound alone sent a shiver down the bastard's tattooed spine. The Duch'a was a shrewd woman, as intelligent as she was cunning, and it took all of the girl's willpower not to throw a warning glance at Mediha, the one who appeared to be the more disciplined of the duo. She seemed to be sticking to the shadows as well, eating her food and doing little else...even if Kanah's gaze routinely fluttered o'er to the witch in curious intervals.

"Now tell me, what does a young Jedi and his associate hope to learn on their stay here?" The Duch'a uttered, a slender hand plucking a crystal glass of shimmering wine and sipping its contents with liquid grace. Her perpetual leer never left Darius, the predatory curiosity pinning the young man to his seat and ensuring no movement of his was left unnoticed.

"Perhaps he's come to find a wife." Kanah grinned, almost too sweetly, shrugging his slender shoulders as he smirked at the witch opposite him. It had been a while since the chief of security was graced with the presence of such an oddity, let alone one as pretty and unassuming as the brunette hiding behind Darius' shadow.

"Perhaps." Zihanna smirked, glancing at Mediha before settling her gaze upon her niece and clicking her tongue. "Alas, you Jedi are celibate are you not? I do hope this planet doesn't break whatever oaths you have sworn, honour is highly regarded here and I would hate to see you stumble." The woman slowly and deliberately uttered, her silken voice bleeding into the large dining room as she narrowed her eyes, catching Têhra in her place.

[member="Darius"] [member="Mediha"]

 

[Mediha]

Several times, Mediha had to resist the urge to let a crooked grin of derision bleed onto her face. The experience was a unique one for her, as she rarely ever found humor in anything. Those were threats? She invited them to dinner to threaten and mock them about whether she and @Dairus were warming each other's beds? The idea itself was so laughable and ignorant of Dathomiri culture that Mediha couldn't even find it in herself to be offended. Who could possibly have a will fragile enough to be provoked by that?

Never underestimate an adversary. Mother Forine's voice echoed in her memory, and the urge to grin left Mediha. Zihanna was very comfortable with casting aspersions and she was starting small, with the most obvious, so that she could either work her way up to the greater or nibble away at the edges of their patience; her strategy told Mediha a great deal more about Zihanna and solidified the concerns she had voiced to [member="Darius"] earlier that day.

Step cautiously, Mediha thought in silent warning to Darius beside her. She was made of steel; Darius, at heart, was not. What she brushed aside he might take exception to.

The looks that Kanah kept throwing her spoke to the ulterior motives of the staff overall. [member="Têhra"] seemed to be the only one at the table who was outside of that equation, eating with her shoulders as hunched as the poise of her Hapan body allowed, as silent as Mediha herself had been. It might be a ruse, but Darius's indecorous comment had not earned him any pretty smiles from her.

Silent and sweet does not make her an ally yet. If Darius's intentions matched Mediha's, they might take her down that path before they left, but she was still Zihanna's lapdog for now, much like the security chief who was taking so much 'subtle' interest in her.

Mediha let Kanah look his fill as his mistress spoke, disinclined to offer any reaction to their debate of Darius's marital status or their suggestive implications, focused on her food much as she had been before this farce of a conversation started. Zihanna's bid to see them bend or break shifted Mediha from being on guard to being prepared for a confrontation. Unless Darius had some hitherto unseen diplomatic skills, this was going to turn hostile in one way or another before long. Still, better him than her; she had no interest in playing Zihanna's game, and bringing their host's motives to the forefront would most certainly be cause for the confrontation she seemed to want.

 

[Cedric Grayson]

The way she spoke of Tehra was...uncomfortable to say the least. AS if she were naught but a smal lchild, something to be passed around whenever Zihanna grew tired of her. Blue eyes shifted to the servant girl for a moment, a mixture of sympathy and worry clear in his gaze. They returned to the mistress a moment later, and Darius smiled. "Lovely," he repeated.

Darius did not appreciate the way Lady Zihanna's concubine looked at Mediha. It wasn't that he was jealous, such thoughts were below a Jedi Knight-to-be, he simply worried for her well-being. If this man decided he wanted to set his hands on the Nightsister, there was going to be a problem. Not that [member="Mediha"] couldn't handle the bastard on her own, Darius would just...help, per-sey.

"Hapan culture mostly. I've read a bit about it, my master recommended I see it myself. You can't adequately protect what you don't truly understand, after all," Darius replied pointedly. He might have been a bit too trusting of people, but the boy was no fool. He would do his very best to give Zihanna no reason to decide she disliked her visitors. He could only hope Mediha would do the same, though she seemed to have been doing such on her own already. The woman had initiative; you had to if you wanted to survive back on Dathomir.

The conversation was directed to him once more. Finding a wife? Celibacy? Darius did not answer all at once. He poked and prodded his food as he tried to come up with a reply, chewing thoughtfully to provide himself with an excuse not to speak.

"Not all of us are. I'm...I've no clue yet. I don't dwell on such thoughts. Romance and physical pleasures aren't the sort of thing the Order encourages, but I've sworn no oaths against them." He took a drink, "I've no need to. I know I can control myself, and a wife would be...well, I'm a bit young." He offered a thin smile. Better to answer with something that might put a stop to that topic than not.

[member="Mediha"]

 

[Têhra]

A quartet of primly dressed waiters spewed forth from a door in the corner of the room like a flock of swans, perfectly postured and each carrying a new dish for the second course. The ornate Hapan treats were as magnificent to behold as they were to smell, the scent of cloves, berries, fish and herbs wafting into the room like a welcome smog of delectable goodness. Zihanna, in all of her conniving, was not one to ignore the basic rights of her guests and it did not surprise Tehra that the raven haired Duch'a would deliver on her usual quality of the finest dining imaginable. It was ostentatious and grand, everything one would expect of a woman of her title. There was no place for modesty when it came to hospitality and whilst the older woman wasn't one to discard condescension she would never stoop so low as to grant her guests a mediocre stay.

"A very astute point Darius, you're master must be proud to have such a sagacious padawan." Zihanna mused thoughtfully, cocking her head slightly as she pursed her lips and took another measured sip of her wine. It was moments like these, where the woman was at her most reserved and contemplative did the dainty bastard find herself feeling all the more anxious. She could not read the Duch'a, not when she masterfully strode across the lines of sarcasm, sincerity and snobbishness with the ease of the most cunning of creatures. She truly was bred to be a politician and that was what made her dangerous.

"Alas, I get ahead of myself darling. I forget that marriage isn't so eagerly rushed into on other planets as it is on Hapes." The Duch'a smirked wryly, cocking a brow at Kanah as she waved away a waiter standing as stoic as statue by her side. Still, her hawkish gaze did not leave her young guest, the pale leer flickering from Darius' features over to Mediha and then back over to the Jedi. With a furrowed brow, Zihanna slowly leaned inwards, a curious expression painting her face. "I must apologize for not knowing there would be two visitors. I would've set up a slightly grander affair for a fellow woman." She smiled, perfect teeth lining up like wintry troops held beneath two ruby red banisters, "It's always a joy seeing girls from across the galaxy. It's an educational experience, more or less." The Duch'a sniffed, eyes not leaving the mute figure of the young witch.

Têhra something heavy tug at her insides, eyes wandering over her untouched dish as she gingerly picked at a slab of bread by her plate.

"I've been told you are from Dathomir, Mediha was it?" Zihanna purred, resting her chin atop her interlaced hands as she peered down at the girl. Clearing her throat, Zihanna offered her bastard niece a pleasantly nightmarish smile before eliciting a low sigh.

"Brave women, those witches. Although, I've heard they're diplomatic skills are lacking...for use of a better term." Kanah interjected, slowly nodding to himself as he swallowed a spoonful of skappi stew. It was his third bowl and the dainty teenager sitting next to him knew that there was a lot more space left inside him for more food.

His comment raised more than just one eyebrow on the table, with Zihanna's ascending the highest.

"Oh I'm sure Miss Mediha is a darling to deal with, let's not throw about stereotypes Kanah." The Duch'a uttered in her silky voice, delicately tapping her chief's hand before finally nodding at Têhra, catching the girl in her leer. "Isn't that right my flower, you know more about the witches of Dathomir than any of us." Zihanna purred, the twinkle of morbid enjoyment hiding in the pale glow of her eyes.

The bastard froze, cringing at her aunt's use of her father's pet name, Flower. If that wasn't enough she was left gawking at the woman in silence, flickering her eyes at both Darius and Mediha, not knowing the right thing to say in the off chance her aunt was testing her.

"I...uh, I just read...a lot." Têhra's feathery voice responded, a fumbling response if there were any.

[member="Darius"] [member="Mediha"]

 

[Mediha]

Oh. It was her turn now.

Mediha lifted her gaze to meet Zihanna’s, listening intently to her diplomatic spiel and ignoring the plate that had been put in front of her. Tehra had yet to touch her meal; Mediha was not blind to it and assumed the worst. While Zihanna spoke, Mediha cast a quick thought over the plate, checking for toxins. Only when she was sure the food was safe did she begin eating. Somewhere, she had accumulated the knowledge of what Mediha was, and the witch knew it wasn’t from Darius. Spies, then. Spells or people placed before Mediha had needed to check their rooms. [member="Darius"] must have said something indecorous to Tehra and was overheard; or Tehra herself had let something slip. Given the enhanced amount of cringing the girl was displaying at the table-- shown primarily in small hints of body language as opposed to worn openly on her face-- it was a very likely possibility.

Mediha’s eyes flicked very briefly to Tehra, and then to Kanah as he spoke. Mediha felt something inside of her cool at the open and unrestrained insult to her people.

Patience and temper, another familiar voice warned her.

In other times, the comment would not have bothered her at all, especially as she knew the game they were trying to play. However, the death of all those in her clan was still fresh, and Mediha felt a sudden sharp urge to sink magickal claws into them and drag their faces across the table. Iron will battled with temperament as Mediha took a careful sip of her wine and turned her attentive gaze back to Zihanna. The rich taste washed over her tongue as Zihanna took up her part, however insincerely. Like the company, the taste of her wine wasn't entirely pleasant, but she tolerated it.

The unexpected inquiry directed at Tehra brought Mediha's attention back to her, and the cold she felt toward Kanah and Zihanna mixed suddenly and dramatically with an emotion Mediha couldn't immediately identify.

She is.

Since Mediha’s suspicions had already been aroused, Zihanna’s attempts to discomfit [member="Têhra"] served also to confirm that Tehra’s power was magickal and Dathomiri in nature. The girl was the offspring of a witch, at the least, and potentially a Nightsister. And they had enslaved her and turned her into a submissive rat to do their bidding.

Zihanna had made a very large mistake.

Again, once upon a time, Mediha would have considered that Tehra’s rough luck and turned her back on the situation, but she was a woman alone in the galaxy, a woman without a clan or any Sisters at all to support her. Tehra was an untrained witch whose roots potentially led back to some off-world Sister of one of the several Nightsister clans of Dathomir. She was as close to family as Mediha had now and, likely, as close as she might have ever again.

Since her hostess and companion liked to play off of one another and get everything off of their chests at once, Mediha had waited for both them and Tehra to finish before she responded; her choice proved to be a boon. Zihanna was trying to bait the silent witch into speech; she would get what she wanted. Her posture was as prim as it had been earlier, but there was an added propriety to the tilt of her chin now, one that bordered on haughtiness and which was at great odds with her dispassionate expression.

"Reading is a valuable skill, even for a servant." Her voice was nothing: polite and even, with no hint of what lay behind her eyes. Mediha returned her gaze to Zihanna. This woman was the Clan Mother in this game. The war leader. The one to watch-- and challenge, if necessary. "Knowledge is the only way one can truly get ahead in the galaxy, which a woman as influential as your master knows well. It speaks well of you that your servants take such initiative.

"Diplomacy on Dathomir is likely not what it is here. Men would never be allowed to speak unbidden in the presence of women, let alone share a potentially offensive opinion born from their ignorance. The ignorance of one's slaves always reflects poorly on the clan that trained them. We usually follow it with swift punishment to make certain to readjust their behavior before they can embarrass us again.” Mediha paused, but the table was completely silent. Even the sound of eating was absent. “For example."

Mediha's unwavering gaze finally redirected from Zihanna to Darius. She ignored whatever the warning or emotion was in his expression as their eyes met. "Of course, the Jedi and galaxy at large seem to disagree, which has led to no end of trouble. But then, cultural differences." Mediha shrugged in a jerky movement and took another sip of her wine, her steel gray gaze returning to Zihanna. "As a woman in power, you understand. We appreciate your hospitality and your willingness to take time to entertain us. Kanah, even, should prove to be great entertainment during our stay. He has such a way with words."

In one quick glance of her eye, Mediha saw the fury thinly veiled behind Kanah’s expression and felt a predatory instinct stir in response.

Come play, then, male.

 

[Cedric Grayson]

It was around that time that Darius adopted a temporary vow of silence. The conversation had turned from himself to Mediha's status as a Nightsister, albeit through a thinly veiled use of wordplay. In all honesty, that was probably something that provided better interest to the Hapans than teenage Jedi. You saw more of his kind around here than the witches after all.

He had some semblance of an intellect. He knew [member="Mediha"] had suspected certain things of [member="Têhra"] since they had landed on Hapes. Darius had come to undertand that she had a connection to the living force, though he had paid no mind to why that was. The force simply was, and those that fostered a bond with it simply were. Yet, when Zihanna mentioned the witches, the padawan felt that he understood.

Blue eyes shifted to Mediha. Her reaction confirmed things.

Breathing a quiet sigh, Darius leaned back in his chair and nudged his food disinterestedly. His appetite had up and left him, and something about this whole affair was making him uncomfortable. The hostility between the women was tangible, though each was intelligent enough to relegate those hostilities to wordplay alone. Then there was the concubine of the mistress; one who Mediha had quite likely made an enemy of.

Darius really couldn't blame her for it.

He took a slow sip of his wine, fought to not make a face at the taste, and relegated himself to the seat of a spectator.

 

[Têhra]

Têhra was utterly mortified with the twist in conversation, completely taken aback by the vitriol that was being so delicately spilled forth between her Mistress and Mediha. Of all things the girl did not want to happen it was a confrontation between the the young witch and Zihanna Syle'a, especially if it involved her. The mood teetered on the precipice of chaos, like a glass statue in a hurricane the room was three insults away from totally shattering into oblivion. The young bastard could practically feel the tension sliver down her spine, the icy tendrils emanating from the witch and the smirking Duch'a opposite her.

Alas, the girl's weak deflection of her aunt's inquiry did little to soften the atmosphere and even before she locked eyes with Mediha she knew the witch connected the dots. It was that ember of discernment that sparked in the glow of the stoic nightsister's gaze that equally terrified Têhra as much as it beguiled her. This young woman was a fragment of something she'd only ever read about, a living and breathing connection to the land that conceived the ill fated dancer. The girl knew not how she was to act in the presence of the Dathomiri representative, and found it increasingly difficult to remain stoic and evasive of Mediha's attention.

Some part of Têhra yearned for something, some misplaced sense of pity or sympathy, anything to draw her close to conduit of her mother's people. But she was a mere servant, a girl lost in a world that barely tolerated her and she felt a tug of shame wash over her petite features.

She was as cheap a Dathomiri as she was a woman of Hapes and the conclusion left a hollow sensation well up within her.

Unlike her niece and the pale faced Kanah, Zihanna found a real zest in the air as she lazily hid an amused smirk at Mediha's not so subtle stab at the security chief. It was with this morbid amusement, striding the tempers of those around her, did the Duch'a harvest a cruel enjoyment from the night's banquet. Kanah's flared nostrils and clenched jawline were enough to grant a melodic laugh to escape her crimson lips, an odd note of satisfaction bleeding into her voice as she flicked her gaze back to the witch and elicited a low sigh.

"A real poet he is." Zihanna mused thoughtfully, curling a manicured finger against her jawline before glancing at the man in question. "Kanah, you've offended the poor thing." The Duch'a sighed, lightly shaking her head before clicking a finger and summoning the quartet of waiters to clear the table for the next course. She seemed completely unfazed with the tension, utterly at home with herself and the bile building up in the throats of those seated around her would've been nothing more than songs to sing her praise if she were to offer such a thing any credence.

"No, I will not have a stranger defile your presence with such insolence! " Kanah growled, jabbing his knife into the brow of a half eaten peach as he leered at the girl opposite him, skewering the poor fruit with the brunt of his ivory knuckled assault. Têhra felt herself cringe as she listened to the sounds of the man's accelerated breaths and the grinding of his teeth, eyes permanently glued to the new plate of...something in front of her.

She couldn't bring herself to look at the man, let alone the witch who so easily aggravated him.

"Oh Kanah, it's mere banter." Zihanna purred, resting her cheek against her palm as she took another graceful swig of her drink. "Nothing that is said is born from maliciousness, our guest is probably tired." The Duch'a nodded to herself, wrinkling her nose before tenderly, if condescendingly, patting the man's hand and smiling at her Dathomiri guest. "Darling, we have more subtle means of conditioning our men here, Kanah lives to serve me and has done an adequate of it so far. Free your mind of such barbarity and you'll see that not all males are repugnant or without some level of worth." The woman chuckled, cocking her head at Darius and opening her palm to him. Like this little Jedi. It was an obvious enough gesture and just another little seed planted by the woman.

Who was she attempting to bait, only she knew that.

"Duch'a Zihanna, I ask that you-"

A palm flourished, silencing the man.

"Têhra, our guests are bored and you haven't touched your last two dishes. Give them a performance and that may summon your hunger." ZIhanna uttered unflinchingly, shooing the girl off the table with a brisk wriggle of her slender finger before offering the stone faced duo a pleasant grin. "Dinner and a show, I'm afraid my chief's rhetoric may not be within your palette so here's something less...offensive." The woman smirked, raising a brow at her bastard niece as the girl awkwardly fumbled in her seat and gazed at the wide space beside the grand table.

Embarrassed flickers of her bright blue eyes danced across the faces of the two strangers, thumbs digging into the palms of her hands as she slowly rose from her seat and shakily tip toed over to the makeshift stage. She felt rigid, skinny limbs freezing up with the tension that clouded the room, and nothing like the perpetually fluid creature that she often was. She knew her aunt was toying with her, making her look the fool in front of the young duo.

"Mistress...I don't feel very well." The girl softly mewled, feeling the jarring sensation of the eyes on her figure as low ethereal melody began to play from some hidden speaker, mocking her with every passing second she stood frozen in place.

She was mortified.

[member="Darius"] [member="Mediha"]

 

[Mediha]

It seems I have offended him, Mediha thought, staring Kanah down. He was chomping at the bit Zihanna had fitted him with, but he dared not toss it off. The look she bestowed on him was nonplussed. Mediha had a very good idea of how males were trained here. She had a sense of how Zihanna had trained Kanah, anyway. Mediha would pass.

The older woman's gesture at Darius was clear enough, but Mediha's mind glided over the implication with little more than a passing acknowledgement. That, too, was of no interest to her. Was Zihanna still trying to push those implications? Did she think her earlier aspersions had prompted Mediha's comments? Did she think Mediha was attempting to bend Darius to her will? Darius had already told them all he had no interest in sex or marriage, even if he had put it off as being a symptom of being a Jedi. Mediha was suddenly very aware of his presence close beside her.

Mediha fell willingly back into her silence, allowing Zihanna the last word; she was content enough. As long as Zihanna thought she was setting up a ploy, she would be inclined to keep her machinations to verbal hostility. Unfortunately, their hostess seemed intent on drawing the attention back to [member="Têhra"] time and again. And Tehra was not as strong willed as the others at the table.

No resilience. That was a problem they would have to correct.

For Mediha, at least, it was clear what was causing her symptoms: her master or a combination of her master and, for some reason, them. No doubt Darius, always so conscious of those around him, recognized at least her fear, if nothing else. A quick glance at Zihanna showed the woman wasn't buying Tehra’s claim of illness either

 

[Cedric Grayson]

Darius wanted to leave. Things had started off pleasant enough, though the hostile undertones were present from the beginning. He had felt he could play the politician well enough; that he could assuage whatever conflicts might arise at this dinner. It seemed that would not be the case, unfortunately. Frowning, he watched as [member="Mediha"] and the baroness had their discussion. There was no hint of kindness in that woman; not the barest shred of compassion. He could see it in the way she regarded Tehra, more like a doll rather than a living being.

Then there was the verbal dueling, something he had little talent for.

The baroness shifted her attentions back to him, however briefly. She spoke of him almost as if he were not there, only acknowledged by the brief tilt of her head. Blue eyes shifted to Mediha. He trusted her, perhaps too much in the eyes of some. It had occurred to him in the past that she might be trying to twist his views to something she could work with; to see how malleable he was to her lifestyle. That thought found its way to the surface here, though it did not last. Still, he felt his neck and cheeks flush ever-so-slightly, though they quickly returned to their former complexion.

He was formulating an excuse for both he and Mediha to make an exit when the baroness had Tehra rise to her feet. Darius was not the most skilled in feeling the emotions in others, but he could ready body language well enough. The girl was terrified. Frowning, he turned to protest to the baroness, only to be cut off by the quiet trill of the music.

[member="Têhra"] was to perform for them? He didn't quite understand. His eyes locked on the girl as she strode up the makeshift stage.

"Oh, this isn't necessary. Miss Tehra's presence alone is enjoyable enough," he stared over at the baroness. His words could be taken in ways unintended, though he sought only to free the servant girl from her current predicament. "You've really spoiled us enough."