The Bottom of a Bottle

[Sinistra]

"Investments are fairly well exciting to someone in my position, Mr. Dawson. Perhaps I am dull, but such is life. I do not apologize for my passions to anyone."

A couple more spoken pleasantries, and hand extended to the floor in a polite invitation and soon they were gliding across the floor in precise clipped steps. Appearances were everything after all. Couldn't have them looking too cozy on the surface.

However, the dance was another step in a grander production between Sinistra and Carach. Another layer of intrigue stripped away by the facades they chose to wear. He danced perfectly, and she was no slouch either. They were cultured, and it showed in the facets they revealed slowly. Whether it was shades of themselves or merely clever posturing, it was still too early to tell.

<<I do believe you just wanted an excuse to lay a hand on my hip, Lord Carach. Do they teach all the acolytes of the One Sith to waltz?>>

[member="Darell Irani"]

 

[Hira Mitsae]

[member="Kira Corsai"]

[SIZE=10.6667px]“Only to the graceful ones, Lord Sinistra.” Carach replied [/SIZE][SIZE=10.6667px]gracefully[/SIZE][SIZE=10.6667px] while guiding her over the dancing floor. It was quite true there had been other ways and avenues to keep up appearances while exchanging more interesting conversation, but there was just something [/SIZE][SIZE=10.6667px]simple[/SIZE][SIZE=10.6667px] about holding a dance with your opponent. You couldn’t really hide behind your dance, couldn’t obfuscate your meaning, if you wanted to dance good you would let your body do the talking and it was there that both of them would find a measure of truth within each other.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=10.6667px]For one there was the realization that a Sith Acolyte would not be taught how to dance. Hence, the quick and dirty assumption would be that Carach had not trained with the One Sith from the beginning, a proposition that also quite true.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=10.6667px]The stories spoke of a ruthless Warlord conquering his world through the virtue of his will and strength. A Warlord who had slaughtered thousands in a bid for control. A Warlord who had found hidden power within himself, unlocked it… and joined like-minded individuals in an attempt to conquer a whole galactic empire.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=10.6667px]Such were the stories circulating, but [member="Kira Corsai"] would know better than most that stories were often just that. Stories.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=10.6667px]“Quite right, though. I am merely waiting for the music to turn a touch [/SIZE][SIZE=10.6667px]hotter[/SIZE][SIZE=10.6667px], so my hand can shift a fraction. Perhaps the tango.”[/SIZE]

 

[Sinistra]

<<Two dances in a row, how very scandalous of you. People will talk, Lord Carach.>>

Her voice practically purred his name, savoring every syllable as though just speaking it was a rare delicacy. She had grown up in a merchant house family on Kuat, not a well known one, but a well respected one. She had to attend balls, and so she learned to dance these steps as a child, long before she could wield a weapon which lent a certain graceful poise to her fighting style, not that Lord Carach or even any of the One Sith had seen her use it.

She had a tactical mind, one that was much better suited to subterfuge and ground warfare than duels of honor or passion. That did not mean she could not hold her own, merely that she could deftly avoid the situation where she would need to.

Though as the music ended and a more lively tempo took over the room, he offered another dance and a fleeting smile on her red lips as all she needed to betray her mutual pleasure at the notion of another pass across the gleaming floor. The tango provided more opportunities for expression, and embellishments should the pair test each other's knowledge of the steps. In such close proximity, he would know the scent of her perfume, the fluidity of her form, and the suppleness of the skin beneath his hands. She was older, yes.

But she was vibrant.

<<Tell me, Carach. Are you enjoying the grand game? Or do you long for a conclusion now?>>

[member="Darell Irani"]

 

[Hira Mitsae]

[SIZE=10.6667px]The bright music swept them up. Every single note, the rhythm, ecstatic laughter and raised emotions from those around them… it all played a part in the greater scheme. It only heightened their own sensations, enhanced it until they were acutely aware of it all; scent, the sensitive touch of their skin, the quickened pulse and hitch in breath. Ah… the dance, it was everything he had expected it to be and even more. Her age was irrelevant, it only provided more experience into the game, her mind nimble and sharp.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=10.6667px]“Conclusions are so final, my dear. It’s the journey that I cherish most.” a smile was playing on his lips, their dance progressed and somewhere within it the Sith Lord pulled her in closer, their bodies touching intimately.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=10.6667px]“A lie would be to say that I am not looking forward to the crescendo of our grand dance.”[/SIZE]

[SIZE=10.6667px][member="Kira Corsai"][/SIZE]

 

[Sinistra]

<<All journeys must end. It is inevitable, one way or another and I think, if I might be so bold to suggest, that our parting will be quite the affair.>>

The dips, the turns, the caresses that went with the dance; all of them gentle pressure to lead her in the direction he wished her to go. She responded to his touch as though they had danced this tango a thousand times and yet the newness of it all left her with a sense of intrigue. His warm breath on the back of her neck sent a seductive shiver down her spine. Her body betrayed her mind for just a moment, but a moment was all someone like Carach would need.

There was nothing so crass as lewd thoughts running through her mind, no. Nudity and sex were not true intimacy to the Sith Lord. In a life built around lies, she had shown him a moment of truth, something her mind could not hide. She did not care for power offered, money, or fleeting looks. She craved knowledge and intelligence. She was attracted to those who could match her game and in her life there were precious few who would ever come close.

She had loved only once, tasted deeply of the pain that it caused, and resolved to never give in to it again. However, she still craved that excitement, that hunt from time to time. She had always pushed the temptations away, relied on her pain to confirm that it was necessary and refocus on her missions. While she could, she would enjoy this exchange, this play between them in several acts before ultimately she would drop the curtain and disappear into the comfort of the shadows again.

She would not discuss these things with Carach; her deepest thoughts, her greatest desires, her darkest days.

<<Take care to savor it while you can.>>

The tango over, she was left with a heavy stare into his eyes, a knowing gaze in the crowded room as she was carefully righted from the dip he had finished the dance with.

"I believe I have taken enough of your time, Mr. Dawson. Enjoy the rest of your evening."

[member="Darell Irani"]

 

[Jairus Starvald]

[SIZE=10.6667px]Etti IV - Corporate Sector[/SIZE]​

[SIZE=10.6667px]The Downtown Area, Irani’s apartment[/SIZE]​

[SIZE=10.6667px]Carach loved winning. This was not a surprise, any Sith Lord worth their weight was a supporter of [/SIZE][SIZE=10.6667px]winning[/SIZE][SIZE=10.6667px] whatever they set out to do, but that had been the beauty of this entire endeavor. Whatever happened the Voice of the Dark Lord would win - if he [/SIZE][SIZE=10.6667px]won[/SIZE][SIZE=10.6667px]? Well, that was easy, but even if he would not win, then at least he would gain valuable insight in @Sinistra and her methods. Nothing to say about giving her a piece of information that would set her on a certain path. Whatever happened with that information would only give [/SIZE][SIZE=10.6667px]him[/SIZE][SIZE=10.6667px] more information on how she operated.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=10.6667px]And so the Sith Lord won.[/SIZE][SIZE=10.6667px] In spirit this time.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=10.6667px]“[/SIZE][SIZE=10.6667px]Well played, Miss Marshall[/SIZE][SIZE=10.6667px].[/SIZE][SIZE=10.6667px]” the Sith said over his glass. The sofa was comfortable, the drink was splendid and the evening was only starting.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=10.6667px]“[/SIZE][SIZE=10.6667px]You may collect your prize at your earliest convenience[/SIZE][SIZE=10.6667px].”[/SIZE]

[SIZE=10.6667px]He wondered what she would ask. Where were her interests this time around? What was it that she would want to gleam from his vast information network? It could be a variety of things. Needless to say, Carach was quite intrigued.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=10.6667px]She [/SIZE][SIZE=10.6667px]had[/SIZE][SIZE=10.6667px] done quite the job. Being outplayed at his own game? An accomplishment to say the least.[/SIZE]

 

[Sinistra]

"Sinistra, please. My earliest convenience? You make it sound so strange, as if I am not sitting here enjoying the view over the city with you."

It had taken a few months, but the scandal that rocked the corporation had been their death knell. Several executives were indicted for insider trading and using the company money to hedge their transactions. It had only taken a minor dip in commercial paper and the short term securities tanked. It had taken a lot of legwork on her end but it had been worth it. She had bolstered them, saved them from the abyss only to make their destruction all the more devastating.

It had been fun.

The carnage was just barely out of the media, and she sat triumphant with a glass of brandy in one hand in a chair opposite him. The formal attire and business suits had been exchanged for grey slacks, a deep purple silk blouse, and a long, black brocade overcoat, trimmed in silver and lavender. It was understated elegance, and she felt like showing off just a little bit. The coat was flashy for someone of her stature, it would be noticed and remembered, but tonight, she wanted to strut, just a little.

The brandy left a tang on her tongue, and she licked her lips, a wry smile twisted the cupid's bow up.

"I'm ready to collect if you're ready to share."

She inhaled sharply through her nose, a rather dramatic hum, and look out to the darkness outside the windows as she made a mockery of pondering what juicy tidbit of information she could claim for their bet.

"I've got it." She smiled wider a moment before the smile evaporated and she leveled her heavy stare into his eyes.

"I want to know what you were before you were a Sith. I don't care about the Voice, I don't care about the One Sith or whatever other darksided things you did before the Dark Lord bent your knee. I want to know who you were before there was Carach."

[member="Darth Carach"]

 

[Jairus Starvald]

Bent his knee.

What a quaint way to describe Carach’s current lifestyle. It had never even occurred to him that people truly looked at it that way. Perhaps because he didn’t consider himself the Dark Lord’s lapdog, not now and not even when he had joined up with the One Sith in the first place. The difference between him and most other Sith was that he didn’t necessarily need to be in charge of the entire operation to be perfectly happy.

As a Voice? He had all the power he needed -- exactly what they had discussed earlier. Why become the Dark Lord, why be the Emperor… when you could be inside the upper hierarchy without having to worry all that much about being targeted all the time?

His loyalty wasn’t to the Dark Lord, the One Sith or any such institutes. It was only to himself and his efforts in the Galaxy.

“A dangerous question.” in fact. It was a question only three people ever knew the answer to, fully or partially, but an answer all the same. Matsu Xiangu, his apprentice, she had been familiar with the endeavors. Je’gan Olra’en… who had seen something of himself within the endeavors made. And then there was the linchpin of it all, the man who connected everything, everywhere at all times, seemingly.

Je’gan was dead, Matsu and the linchpin gone from the Galaxy. That left only himself aware of the entire truth.

“Are you sure this is what you wish to spent your question on?”

Carach did not seem tense, annoyed or angry, but there was a certain strain in the air. Almost as if time itself was holding its breath to see what Sinistra would say.

[member="Kira Corsai"]

 

[Sinistra]

"Absolutely. I would have tanked the CSA for nothing. I do not crave power in the ranks of the One Sith and if I did, I would need nothing from anyone else to attain it."

She stood up and made her way to the sideboard where the snifter of brandy sat. Her heeled steps sunk into the plush carpet, her movements deliberate and the hem of her long dress coat sweeping behind her. Her fingers deftly wrapped around the crystal decanter cut with facets to make the light dance within the amber potable inside. She slid the stopper out and paused a moment, thoughtful as she turned to him.

"I am too restrained, too calculating for leadership of One Sith and my machinations work better when I am in place to pull those strings. There is nothing about the halls of the home office that tempt me. Except you. I am curious about what makes you tick. So the wager was a necessary evil."

There was a devilish glint to her eye as she turned back to her glass and refreshed the drink. The bottle restoppered, she turned around, leaning on the edge of the sideboard, one arm across her chest and the other over it, holding the glass, her dark brown eyes resting on his face.

"Who is the man behind the mask?"

[member="Darth Carach"]

 

[Jairus Starvald]

His look was far away. Almost as if Carach was staring back into the history of his existence, trying to pull it out of the timestream to present it back here to her, but that was easier said than done. Most men would have been ashamed about such a history, they would have purposefully clouded it in the shadows so that nobody would ever find out -- but not Carach, Voice of the Dark Lord and Sith Lord, no… never him.

“Such a thing can not be shared verbally.”

The Sith once again spoke up, those burning eyes meeting hers and holding the gaze for just enough seconds to come off as indecent.

“It can only be shown.” he stood up.

And once again she would be hit by the realization of just… how large he really was. Standing at 6’9 Carach would tower over her. His movements were as graceful as they were subtle, as he walked it seemed more as if he was fading from one position to another, until finally there were only a few hands between them.

His hand reached out.

“It might be painful.”

One last warning then.

[member="Kira Corsai"]

 

[Sinistra]

Her eyes narrowed, not maliciously but with an air of intrigue to them. She drained the glass, swallowing down the semi-sweet burn of the alcohol. She set the glass on the edge of the cabinet with her left but her right reach forward, brushing her fingers lightly across his palm. Her hand was cold, the fingers long and delicate but unadorned.

She stepped closer, without trepidation or fear of pain. Pain was something she was intimately familiar with and it would not deter her want of knowledge. However, she would not be foolish either and her careful grip on stealth eased, allowing her mahogany eyes to bleed their color to a sulfuric yellow as she lavished in the grip of the dark side.

Her voice came out husky and low as she locked eyes with him, her head tilted back to look up at him.

"Then show me."

[member="Darth Carach"]

 

[Jairus Starvald]

That sentence floated between them.

Burning eyes met sulfur. Seconds ticked by, until finally a change happened. She would start to hear soft whispers at the edges of her mind, different voices, different tones, languages differed too and it all came together in incomprehensive white noise. But it was there and a Sith Lord as experienced as Sinistra would realize that its source was Carach His free hand brushed her the edge of her chin, tipping it up just an inch more, before pulling her in closer in his embrace. Lips interlocked a moment after and as flesh touched, so did his presence wrap itself around her mind.

“We are Legion.” the familiar baritone of his voice cut through the cacophony of multitude inside her mind. “For we are many.”

It was a callback to their very first conversation. He had spoken the first part, she had finished with the second - she had been indignant about the usage, bored perhaps, but even there Carach had woven in a subtle meaning.

Such things happened with this Sith Lord often, it seemed.

“Do you remember?”

As the last syllable spoke it blended into the voices of the others.

[member="Kira Corsai"]

 

[Sinistra]

Parted lips, warm breath and then everything became an overwhelming sensation of standing in a room of people screaming over each for attention. The physical sensations were swept away by the sudden crowds in her mind. Fleeting visions of his face were hard to focus on and she found she could focus on nothing except the baritone that overlayed all the tumultuous noise.

She stood alone in the middle of a grey fog, the ghosts of his past flitted just inside the mist, their forms indistinct as she tried in vain to make any of them out. She turned her focus inward and the voices quieted as he asked his question.

"I remember vaguely. I know we drank a bit that night."

[member="Darth Carach"]

 

[Jairus Starvald]

A chuckle made up out of thousands.

“The truth is…”

And truth was a valuable commodity. It was the truth that Carach dealt in. Knowledge refined to its very core, because the very essence of secrets was that they were secret for a very good reason usually.

People didn’t like the truth. Tried to hide it often. All those little, pesky skeletons in their closet, sticky with ancient blood.

“Carach, as you know him, hasn’t existed since- twenty years ago? Think that’s about the time that has passed in realspace time now.” and yet… and yet Sinistra would clearly feel that Carach was much older than that. Ancient. Hundreds, if not thousands of years of experience refined to a sharp edge, a vision that extended itself to the far future and a will that had been steeled in the fires of the Netherworld itself.

“Time doesn’t always flow as steady and continuous as you would want it to, sadly.”

He hummed loudly pondering about it, before she could almost feel his voice shrugging. No clue how that worked.

“Let me show you.”

And show her he would.

[member="Kira Corsai"]

 

[Sinistra]

The voices stopped, although quieted is probably a better description for the sudden silence. The grey mist parted as a voice began, the language something she could not comprehend. The man in the center seemed oblivious to the things around him, as he worked. The face was Carach, but there was something in the eyes, the weight of the stare. It was him but it wasn't. The man that history would know as Jared Ovmar stood before her now. The mists took on a strange inner light and the spectres solidified as the scenes of Ovmar's life played out.

The chorus of the dead started low, the narrative taken over by each of them in turn as they moved in and out of focus, the Sith of the past, the voices of the dead wrangled into submission and screaming for vengeance, or for blood, for rest, or for hatred. Who they were in life mattered little as Ovmar wrested them from the grip of eternal slumber or shuffled them from their mortal flesh. Their skins were as varied as their voices, their visages sneered at her as she struggled to follow the tall stranger through the mists, the scenes playing out over and over as he struggled against the chaos of sound and fury. All of them grasped at the tall man but he fought on, through his life, through the chaos to a room washed in blue.

The man she followed, approached another. He was cold, blue and empty. She could feel that. He was nothing, yet the one she followed lifted a hand to touch the pale skin. It was quiet...the voices were silent for the moment, the thread of tension so taut it begged to snap but it held the breath of the ghosts back.

The warm tanned skin of Ovmar touched the unborn flesh of Carach and the blue washed face started, his eyes opening wide as the voices cried out as one and then once more, the pale one slept. Only now the mists had faded, the voices quieted to the hushed chorus singing a melancholy harmony just barely audible.

She turned as she felt the grasp of someone behind her and the grey mists had returned. She stepped into them, feeling herself caught up with the shades of lives long past. The sounds of rushing winds drowned out her voice and the tanned one was pulling them together again to touch the pale one. She was not of the dead, not a shade of a life now gone. She fought to break free of the tenuous grasp but it would not give and she felt herself in blackness.

Alone.

This time, there was only one voice, musing to himself, talking to himself. It held the familiar baritone edge she was used to but as she moved to find it, she realized it was all around her. The blackness gradually faded until she could see the faint wash of blue. She headed for it, the voice talking so loudly she could make out no words but the rest of the voices still a distant chorus. The blue light in the room was growing brighter but now the pale skinned Carach was awake and the fiery eyes questioned; everyone and everything, it was all suspect.

He looked through her as though she was not there, a smile on his lips and the color returning to his skin as he moved to go out into the mists.

She opened her mouth to call out but no sound would come so she pursued him as quickly as she could. The mists would not let her find him, the Carach she knew was in them somewhere.

She skidded to a halt when she saw her own reflection in the mists, the swirling fog shrouding the others from her. The chorus was louder now as her own face walked forward, laying a finger on the side of her chin, but his voice coming from her lips.

"We are legion..." it hissed as it grew into the tall, form of Carach towering over her. "for we are many."

[member="Darth Carach"]

 

[Jairus Starvald]

The mind of a master mentalist was no joking matter. It was a maze of connections, interwoven secrets and truths brandished together in a miasmatic mass of electric surges. Lessers trapped in his mind had found themselves without an identity - the individuality simply burned out of them, until they were left a withered husk; mentally at least. Their physical form was akin to a drooling fool. Never able to take care of themselves anymore. But this time around Carach was not planning on burning out everything that made Sinistra… Sinistra, gingerly, with care and a lot of experience he pulled her out of his mind, thread by thread, until finally the Sith Lord would find herself back in the physical world.

At the same time Carach regained awareness of his surroundings. She was against the wall, their lips still interlocked. How much time had passed? Seconds? Minutes? Hours? It was difficult to say.

He pulled himself out of the kiss, but retained the close physical proximity. Then Carach whispered out loud, instead of her mind - she probably had enough of that for a while, asking her.

“Was it worth it?”

[member="Kira Corsai"]

 

[Sinistra]

She didn't move for a moment, feeling her senses once again familiarize themselves with the physical world. Her eyes were closed, her mind swimming with the sensations of being wrapped in the embrace of a thousand consciences. She licked her lips, trying to remember what that kiss felt like but there was no recollection of the passing of time. She opened her eyes at his words, the irises a pair of golden jewel toned orbs staring back at him.

"It's going to take a while to understand what I saw..." her eyes dropped to his lips, his breath on her skin as she realized she was panting and out of breath. "...but yes. Completely."

She closed her eyes again and the gap between them, her lips finding his as she gripped his shoulders, his arms supporting her as she was pressed against the wall about a foot and a half off the floor.

[member="Darth Carach"]

 

[Jairus Starvald]

A number of hours later…

They ended up in bed.

The entire experience a haze of emotions, passions flaring and aggression unleashed. Sith Lords didn’t usually handle such things with care or gentleness, though there was some to be found in the aftermath of it. The aftermath. It gave Carach something to think about. This had been the most fun he had experienced in a long while. The mind games, infiltration in the Corporate Sector, the action back at home.

This was what life was about. Life as the Voice of the Dark Lord wasn’t as glamorous as people liked to fantasize about. It was a whole lot of administrative nonsense combined with putting your life on the line in every single skirmish and campaign.

And for what?

No, this entire experience was making the Sith Lord think things. The datapad in his hand feeded him some more information, interesting news that had to be handled quickly, a short window of opportunity, so to speak.

Sinistra laid next to him, he coughed - getting her attention.

“You ever heard of the Star Cabal?”

[member="Kira Corsai"]

 

[Sinistra]

She was vaguely aware of the room around her, of his body next to hers, the feel of the sheets on her skin, the crisp linens drawing a sharp line across the thick black lines of ink that adorned her back from the shoulder blades down. Her skin was marred in places by ugly scars, the ridges and lines of them gracing the topography of her skin like monuments to the violence she had inflicted and endured. Gunshot wounds on her torso, the rippled burns on her legs, the long angry red gash where she had been slashed by a poisoned blade. He had studied every inch of her with hands and lips, and she wondered through the haze of ecstasy and endorphins if he was trying to absorb her essence into the miasma of his being.

There was no need for words between them as the hours faded through the night to the dawning light of a new day. He didn't seem to sleep much and in the early hours, he had been flipping through his datapad with a bored expression, except for the occasional glance in her direction. He may not have noticed the subtle shift in his features but through the heavy lidded physical exhaustion, she had seen it.

She had been awake for some time, laying there as she replayed the things she had seen, trying to unpack the dense visions and voices that threatened to overwhelm even her. She was a gifted sorcerer but even her grasps of mental tricks and magick had failed to prepare her for the things she had witnessed in the bit of show and tell he had given her.

She had no plans regarding Carach beyond the conclusion of their mutual business, in fact if anything she had assumed that should they ever find themselves in this position, she would be only another in a long and continuing line of conquests. If anything, his reputation as a womanizer was well known. She had no illusions that this would be any different. Besides, she too had her vices and the most glaring was her work ethic. She had many irons in the fire and as she had prided herself on, attachments were only distractions.

She pushed up from the mattress, sheets wound around her as she stretched and sank back to the pillows. She need caf, and a shower. There were aches and pains that she would enjoy throughout her day from her evening activities but then again, she very rarely allowed herself an indulgence of the flesh. She was overdue for this particular pain.

"No. Sorry."

[member="Darth Carach"]

 

[Jairus Starvald]

"More's the pity. I will keep it short then." the datapad was put away, back on the counter from where it had come. Instead the Sith Lord eased back into the pillows of the bed, his eyes closing while trying to formulate multiple reports of information into a single condensed package of information that would be helpful enough for Sinistra to understand the situation. Carach was a man of passion, this was true, but when it came to his work... there were few if any things that could stand between him and the accomplishment of it. This was the reason why he was currently not even contemplating the night before, the consequences of the knowledge he had imparted upon her and what he really wanted out of the woman.

This was a once in a lifetime opportunity. The Star Cabal had been a secret society, formed shortly after the Great Hyperspace Wars, few if any information was really available to them these days. Even to Carach -- who was in the possession of one of the greatest, if not the greatest libraries in the Galaxy, much of their inner workings were a mystery.

But the things he knew about them made him interested. They had infiltrated every portion of society thousands of years ago, before the Gulag Plague, before even the legendary Clone Wars. They had controlled the governments of the Republic and the Sith Empire from the shadows, influencing them and pushing them in the directions they wanted. And they had been destroyed. At least that was Carach's understanding, until today. Today he received a report from one of his operatives. A resurfacing had been noted. Apparently the Cabal had survived until this very year... until someone wiped them out again, but once again fringe elements remained. The Sith Lord wasn't truly interested in the Star Cabal, but the intel suggested that those same remnants could lead to something much more potent, maybe.

"A secret society recently re-uncovered and annihilated. In ancient days long since passed they controlled all aspects of the Galaxy, pushing and prodding it into the direction they wished. I do not yet know who rediscovered them, who destroyed them, but my agents noticed subtle chatter. Remnants of this Cabal are trying to reform."

His eyes opened themselves. Molten disks of fire meeting her eyes as he turned to face her.

"This present an opportunity. You are an exceptional agent, and I am in need of your help." last time they had simply played a game. There hadn't been really anything at stake. Now it would be different... now they were playing for real. Life and death.

[member="Kira Corsai"]