[member="Thengil Ri'Shajirr"] | [member="Darth Carnifex"] | [member="Matsu Xiangu"] | [member="Mala Arar"] | [member="Darth Prazutis"] | [member="Anaya Fen"] | [member="Tony Ro'samo"] | [member="Darth Lykos"]
The interplay was interesting to observe: as ever, when Sith gathered, there would always be silent rivalries displayed in subtle fashion. There was no doubt history between several of those present, bad blood between them that would perhaps need to be spilled before both parties were satisfied and could move on to more important things.
We are all taught that we must master ourselves to advance among our brethren, but so many hold such little grudges. It would have been amusing, if it weren't potentially so dangerous: to have one Sith Lord conflicting with another often meant collateral damage far in excess of what was necessary to put an end to their feuding.
As for the Acolytes, there is never a time when two of them are not found squabbling. The small acts of petty violence expressed between Vitium's apprentice and the mouthy boy that clearly felt contempt for her were amusing enough, though to invite conflict here was to risk drawing in far more powerful individuals than either of the two.
And to provoke an Acolyte in the presence of her Master is foolish indeed, Tirdarius thought reflectively. If Vitium took umbrage, perhaps she would press vengeance upon the fool. Or perhaps the girl would challenge her rival with her Master present, so as not to lose face before her teacher.
To stand on such a knife edge is to risk being cut either way.
Still, both had been careful to keep their actions on a lesser level, subtle applications of limited Force energies, each taking note of the other and extending simplistic threat, but neither one of them taking the next step, escalating matters to outright violence.
An interesting thing, the opening exchange of a larger game. It was posturing, pure and simple, but both of them exuded darker emotions, a vitriolic mixture of rage and contempt, something which might yet to be stirred into true fury.
A wrong move by either of them, and the game shall end abruptly. He nodded to himself in acknowledgement of their position.
Pick your next moves carefully.
The boy was all casual disdain: smoking a cigarra, drinking a brandy, sitting there for all the world as if even the gathered Sith Lords were beneath him.
And yet he reeks of fear. Tirdarius had seen many like him: beings that struck out to those weaker than them, but acted with carefully-studied disdain towards those that might be stronger, that might be a threat.
Show the world that you are not scared, and even those who could challenge you might yet hesitate. Clever, but a transparent act around those that could penetrate through such a facade and see to the deeper feelings beneath.
Vitium's pet terrifies him, but he seeks to treat her as a non-entity so that her anger forces her into a mistake. Given the right opportunity, the boy would pounce and kill her without compunction, pleased to find a vulnerability.
As for Vitium's apprentice, she knew better than to fear such a one: he could sense the cold anger stirring in her mind, slowly stoked to a hotter inferno. Had the others not been present, perhaps she would have leapt across the table and split his skull, slamming his head against the table and turning it into a bloody pulp, but with her Master watching, she was exercising considerable restraint.
You could give in to your anger, unleash all the pent-up rage you feel, and he would be little more than a smear of fluids on the bar, but you exercise control. That was interesting: she was young yet to have such a control on her passions.
Vitium has found one worth training. That was reassuring: that the Sith had a future beyond those remnants of the Empire they had once called their own.
"Perhaps the two of you should take this outside," he said calmly, eyes flickering between the two youngest within the Tavern, a faintly-amused smile curving his lips.
"We have business to discuss, and it would be best to proceed without you glaring daggers at one-another and spending your time imagining the horrors you wish to visit on the other," the Sith Lord observed calmly, knowing well enough that the both of them had little intent on keeping things civilised.
Perhaps only as long as our gathering lasts.
"Or should we simply kill one of you, and save ourselves the bother of having to do it later, when you become irritating." 
