Thread By Thread

[Loxa Visl]

Byss
Sith Citadel
The Hall of Archives

For all its grand securities, the Sith Citadel was a place of strange quiet. Though teeming with life and the flow of Acolytes and Masters and Imperials alike, there was something strangely serene about this location. Perhaps it was here that the ebb of the Darkside pooled, the source of the darkspring that fed the plains of Byss' far reaching cities.

Or perhaps becuase it was a place of study and learning. A place of providence for the gifted and the driven.

It was here that Eske arrived in what to many was the dead of the night but to her was the breath of her waking hours. To say she intruded, to say she interloped, she believed to be a farce claim. Much like how she had always explored, the Arachneri took the routes far less traveled and the paths that were very much a typical route for one such as herself.

Silently the spider taversed the tops of the archival stacks, making her way one delicately placed spider-leg at a time. She disturbed neither soul nor stack, a veritable cloud drifting overhead unbeknownst to those in the aisles far below. One after another she paused to peer at their faces before moving on.

Finally, near a quiet back corner, Eske fell still.

There below a man hunched over a collective of tomes and articles. His hair was light and short, his figure broad and stark within plain robes. Were it not for the gaze of imperturbable stone she might've continued searching.

This was he.

Eske smiled to herself, hunkering down along the top of the stacks to watch for a short while, awaiting a moment where his attention shifted from the page he perused.

"Good evening, Archivist," said the spider in a soft tone.

[member="Hal Terrano"]

 

[Hal Terrano]

Strange quiet was perfection.

In his fall from grace, the thirst for knowledge was not quenched. Be it on the side of light or dark the man known as Hal Terrano still sought enlightenment. Perspectives had changed, both his own and that of the page and strangely enough it had brought a sense of balance.

It was often frustrating, seeing author bias upon the page or screen. Our version of events. History was written by the victor, after all. So it was only through reading the history of both the Jedi and the Sith that Hal could apply his analytical touch, taking fact and discarding propaganda. Truth did not take sides, and knowledge was not only power but also truth.

For most it did not sound like the most thrilling hobby, others preferring things like sin and skin but this had always been Terrano's cup of tea.

Tea, with a spoonful of honey.

However, taking a pause from history, he opted to dive into the realm of Sith Magic. It had always been a curiosity. Such materials were heavily restricted within the Jedi Order, understandably so, in more lax times Jedi had fallen to the availability to such materials. Curiosity often leading the way to practice and there was no right circumstance for Jedi to practice Sith Magic.

The man was deep into the art of summoning fear, face fixed into a stern expression as crimson irises perused the page.

A silken voice, however, interrupted his study.

Head tilted upwards to address the woman, mouth slightly ajar in preparation for greeting, every motion calculated for efficiency. Except he caught himself staring, not expecting the presence of an Arachneri to be before him. Not obeying the laws of proper social ettiquette he studied the woman for a few silent moments, eyes drinking in those spider's features before returning to those eight red eyes.

“Greetings,” he returned, words stiff and starched, “may I help you?”

---

[member="Eske"]

 

[Loxa Visl]

"Yeeeesss," the answer came upon a hiss and a clatter of exciting clicking, "I do believe you can." A sanguine smile developed upon her features as the Arachneri began to descend from her perch. Slow, gentle, methodical movements of eight massive white arachnid legs brought her down in an arching circle around the Archivist until she settled soundlessly upon the main hall floor, her bulk situated in the open area between stacks and study.

"I am ever the persistent drinker of knowledge and you," she delicately swayed a pale human hand towards the man, her torso flexing towards him, "are the very person I was told to find. Archivist [member="Hal Terrano"] - keeper of One Sith Lore, I humbly seek you out for both guidance and approval. As I have opened my home in Erudol to those of your kin for its knowledge and secrets contained within, I was promised free access to that of the One Sith's Archives. A most fair trade indeed - are these Archives of Byss complete?"

 

[Hal Terrano]

Social boundaries already cast aside by the man, he watched the way the woman's limbs moved as she did, finding a certain amount of interest in how her very different body structure shifted. Most would likely find it unsettling, with logic he would have questioned such but imagined that it came down to the number of limbs.

Naturally, such didn't bother Terrano, but rather piqued interest and gave the man pause for thought, he would be looking up the Arachneri later on.

Eyes shifted back to hers once again as he listened to her words. It was tragically rare that he encountered those interested in the pursuit of knowledge, within both the Jedi and the Sith, so he was refreshed at the notion of being sought out for such ventures. Another mental note made, Erudol would have to be his destination soon. Unfortunately Hal was so often caught up in his world of scripture and tomes that the business of the One Sith went over his head.

“No,” he responded bluntly, “these archives are disorganised at best.”

Of course, given his work upon Cato Neimoidia, a very high standard existed within Hal Terrano of what an archive should be. The ever-chaotic Sith mind did not make for proper organisation.

“There is a lot of work to be done here.”

---

[member="Eske"]

 

[Loxa Visl]

"Really..." the word dripped with intrigue as it exited through her fanged teeth. Eight glowing red eyes briefly glance around, taking in all there was to see as though looking upon a feast. A smile stretched across her face in a ghastly, cheshire facade. Eske's form moved in a bit closer to [member="Hal Terrano"], a rapt clicking sounded in budding excitement.

"Marvelous. May I be of service to you Archivist?"

 

[Hal Terrano]

There was a quirk of a pale eyebrow.

It wasn't often that the man encounter anybody who wished to spend time in the Sith Archives, budding Sith Sorcerers would grace the tomes to aid their growing skills but other than that he remained alone amongst the world of knowledge. So the idea that another wished to join him in this solitude was rather foreign.

However, the help was most definitely required.

“Yes,” he replied curtly, “you can.”

Closing the book upon the desk, the man ran a calloused hand across the face of the book. One could practically feel the history at their fingertips in these ancient scripts and yet there was a grand flaw in this physical knowledge.

“Most of these texts only exist in hard copies, were they to be lost or destroyed then they would be gone,” Hal said in his standard blunted tones, “I have been working on backing every volume up onto a centralised archive.”

Largely thankless, mostly arduous. Yet he enjoyed it.

---

[member="Eske"]

 

[Loxa Visl]

Though Eske held the highest regard for Sith Sorcerers Hal would eventually come to find she could never hope to be one. He would also come to find that she held an Archivist in higher regard yet. The venture of knowledge was forever a path of many Arachneri, especially that of Eske.

"Ahhh..." a honeyed tone leveled her intrigue at the book beneath his hand, one he would quickly find out of his grasp as she plucked it away from him, gently though, with one of her long arachnid legs.

Deft, blackened, human fingers quickly took up the book from her leg and with utmost delicacy began to page through it.

"I have often wished to do just this with my own collection," front to back, the pages flew before she gently closed the book, "alas Erudol has long since lacked the capacity. Will you show me, Archivist? It has been so long since I've technology at my disposal."

[member="Hal Terrano"]

 

[Hal Terrano]

Internally he was thankful that the Arachneri was not at all coarse with the text. After all, Chaos hath no fury like an archivist witnessing abused books. Although in saying that, it was doubtful that somebody who referred to themselves as ever the persistent drinker of knowledge would treat the source of such with carelessness.

She spoke of her own collection, stoking fires of intrigue within him. His mentally planned visit to Erudol would have to be bumped up in the list of priorities. There was always going to be knowledge outside of his grasp, and yet Terrano still strived to consume all that was possible.

“Yes, I will show you,” the man replied starkly, “I would also very much like to review your collection...”

A pause. A frown.

“...what is your name?”

---

[member="Eske"]

 

[Loxa Visl]

"But of course..." she cooed, "there is much to review."

Much. An arbitrary term used to associate the muchness of her life's work and that of the collective of the Lusethem legacy. It paled in comparison to the muchness that the galaxy had to offer but these sorts of comparisons were beyond her care. A grand library once stood in Erudol, but those walls had long since crumbled. She'd saved what she could, transferring them to well-preserved tunnels deep beneath the ruins and the underchambers of the citadel. It was there that she'd made her agreements with [member="Darth Mythos"] and [member="Vengeance"] and it was there that she hoped to begin her life's next great challenge.

A challenge that would start here.

Eight eyes briefly took in the figure of the Archivist, incapable of capturing the brilliant blue of his eyes with their limited spectrum of sight. They saw well the build of muscle hidden beneath his robes, as well as she sensed the blood pulsing through his veins and the slow, measured rhythm of his breathing.

"Your kind cannot pronounce my given name," she stated plainly, "but those that have known me before have called me Eske," a curious click followed as she retracted one of her hands from the book in the other, looking to it, "what is it you like to do...something with your hands when you make an acquaintance?"

[member="Hal Terrano"]

 

[Hal Terrano]

Hal nodded as she gave him a name. Eske. While it was necessary to have a name to address another by there was still a latent curiously within him to know of her real name, he may not have been able to pronounce it but perhaps the Arachneri would speak it to him at a later date.

“A handshake,” he confirmed, lacing his own fingers together. General social ettiquette had always been something of little importance to Terrano, with so many species and cultures across the galaxy there was little point in engaging in every small ritual when words could convey all that was needed. Although, in the same breath it was wise to be aware of such things, mostly for dignitaries.

“I do not believe, however, that I have ever shaken hands with another,” the archivist stated, forehead creasing as he tried to recall if he ever had. Not likely.

He could have returned to business at hand, but in rare moment of loneliness he opted for further conversation. Yes, the man was accustomed to being buried away within archives but he used to have a head poking in now and again with the offer of tea.

Honey. Can be added to porridge too.

“Do your people have any customary greeting?”

---

[member="Eske"]

 

[Loxa Visl]

"Ahh," another curious glance to her own hand, red eyes noting that the man did not proffer his own for the act and did dismiss it entirely, "then I have not faltered in this."

Just as well, the idea of a handshake made little sense to her. The etiquette of the Arachneri was a completely different song and dance, to which she gave a sharp grin of fangs at the man's query, "My people are of a solitary nature. We do not take company with one another with the exception of mating and the rearing of young."

The grin faded to a simple smile, mirth evident in those eight ghastly eyes as they appraised the Master Archivist in silence, "Would that you were curious of the mating rituals I could elaborate."

[member="Hal Terrano"]

 

[Hal Terrano]

A solitary nature he could understand, appreciate. However mating and rearing of young was a completely different story for the Archivist. A broken self-sworn vow of chastity was not conducive to such affairs, one could not mate and therefore had no children to raise, unless one included the training of Padawans under such activities.

It had felt like losing a child.

“I would appreciate such,” he responded, face still cast in grim stone, “however, I would need a better understanding of your species anatomy first.”

Even when lost in the dark, there always seemed to be a comical innocence to the man once known as Hal Terrano. For he had not a single shred of a clue at how flirtatious his statement might have seen. Even if it was just a genuine interest in knowledge spoken in a stern tone.

He shifted, almost seeming uncomfortable where he sat (although, he was a creature that seemed uncomfortable at all times, except perhaps, when alone).

“I feel at a disadvantage,” he stated plainly, coldly.

---

[member="Eske"]

 

[Loxa Visl]

"Mmm," a thoughtful sound echoed by a low secondary trill of clicks. Eight crimson eyes narrowed in mirthful delight, arachnid legs coiling as she leaned in towards Hal, "I would be delighted to educate you, Archivist."

One by one those long white legs ticked forward, bringing the creature closer still with silent fluidity. Enticed by the culmination of a foreign landscape and entity with a natural affinity towards knowledge, the Arachneri's guard hairs stood on end. Every nuance of air movement, every flitting shadow, every breath was hers to know and experience.

"We are a curious combination of things... simple and yet inextricably complicated in our makeup. What was once a development of camoflauge to better attract and assail our main prey has become a namestay of our kind. Homeo sapienssss...." a soft hiss, words uttered with utmost care of their syllables, "we eat, drink, speak, breath, and feel just like you," she placed black-tipped digits upon the man's chest, just over his heart where the strong, steady beat of his life could be felt through material and flesh alike. The sensation made her smile.

"My heart is as yours, but I have two."

[member="Hal Terrano"]

 

[Hal Terrano]

“Good.”

It wasn't often that one found delight in knowledge. It was something that always seemed to be less important, overlooked and abandoned in the pursuit of what was bold, brash and exciting. Much like Hal Terrano himself.

Impassive stare observed as the woman came ever closer, his implants studying her arachnid anatomy in much more intimate detail. Of course, it did not aid him that he was still lacking proper understanding in the form and function of each limb, and every hair, but real detailed vision could at times say more than what various studies and texts could. That was, of course, excluding matters of dissection but the Archivist was decidedly not going to dissect the Arachneri.

Her arm extended, hand moving towards his chest, causing an increase in the rhythm of his heart's beat. Despite the gesture not being so sudden the man could not help but flinch when her hand touched cloth. Eyelids shut for a moment, a long rattled breath leaving still-stern slightly parted lips. He was not a man often touched.

Honey. Porridge. Tea.

“You are touching me,” he stated, now staring blankly at her smile.

[member="Eske"]

 

[Loxa Visl]

"Yesss..." syllables spoken upon a low, soft hiss. A forked tongue briefly flickered from between plump red lips, licking the air to taste the presence of savory things only she knew of.

Tcktcktcktcktcktcktcktck....

Clicking from her spinnerettes, soft but echoing sharply in this small, confined area. Stilted white legs pressed forward again, bringing the Arachneri's torso to within a hairsbreadth from the Archivist. "Touch is a magnificent way to glean knowledge, do you not agree?" Two hands now pressed along his sternum, black-tipped fingers smoothing along the fabric of his clothing, along the chiseled contours of expertly crafted and maintained muscle beneath. Eske swept her left hand slowly upwards along the man's neck and then, gentle as a feather, brushed the backside of her fingers along the cusp of his jawline where she could feel the drumbeat of his heart through her exoskeleton.

It elicited a soft, multi-chord keening from the creature akin to the sound of a swoon.

"If you listen closely," said the creature as she leaned back, brushing the long pearlescent strands of hair from her front to bare her exposed and unclothed chest, "you can hear both my heartbeats," black fingers tapped above her left breast, "right here."

[member="Hal Terrano"]

 

[Hal Terrano]

A frown crept up upon his lips, body still as rigid as over-beaten egg whites as she moved ever closer until she was almost pressed against him.

There was a certain amount of displeasure he took in the fact that touch could achieve knowledge. No family to raise him, hold him, coddle him. No friends with arms around shoulders and hearty slaps upon the back. No lover to embrace, to kiss, to touch. It was only when people touched him that they hurt him, sometimes physically, sometimes when they just walked away.

Honey.

Touch was alien, over-thought and conflicting. Hal Terrano was not made to be touched, not designed nor raised with the express purpose of the human experience. It was a sense beyond his realm and it confused, no, even frightened him.

“I do not know.”

He stared at her face, those Yuuzahn Vong biots reacting in accordance with emotion, with yellow swirling throughout the red. Fear. His hand wavered, moving upwards and careful as not to graze her flesh despite intent. Ever-so-slowly the pads of his fingers touched upon indicated flesh, guarded contact, as if her skin was comprised of blades.

Slower still, tips became fingers until the flat of his large palm was now placed upon her chest, above twin heartbeats.

---

[member="Eske"]

 

[Loxa Visl]

"Do you feel them, Archivist?"

Yellow.

What is yellow to an Arachneri that had never before seen the color? Yellow was swirls indiscernible to those eight beady, glowing red eyes. Yellow was his heartbeat, was the faint scent of sweat at his brow, was the hint of fear she'd detected on the air with another flicker of her tongue, was the intensity of his posture in such a glaring display of discomfort.

Yellow was the taste of fear savored before the kill. Fresh blood and quivering flesh and adrenaline filling every sense.

Yellow was the shiver of a web.

Hal's hand warmed upon her chest and there she felt not two beats reverberating together, but three. That lucid symphony of the predator's steady staccato against the quavering taps of the unwary.

Hwoooooooaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhh. The sound of her booklungs filtering air.

"Human hands are delightfully... warm," Eske sighed, the lowest of her eyes closing in enjoyment of the contact, "something my kind does not possess. Inner warmth. Lost in this amalgamation of two conflicting biologies. Perhaps it is why I relish the blood and flesh of your kind so, if for nothing more than to feel like you for a short while. Warm."

[member="Hal Terrano"]

 

[Hal Terrano]

Warm was not a term oft used to describe Hal Terrano, warm was perhaps the very last descriptor that could be attached to the former Jedi at any stage in his life. Perhaps the warmest aspect of the man was the very porridge that he ate every morning, almost in a religious fashion.

Of course, this was all in imagery.

On a physiological scale, of course he was warm. A man of good diet and regimented exercise would have nothing less than a strong beat of heart and a healthy flow of blood throughout the body. Constantly clad in thick, warm robes, it was possible that on a physical scale that this man was in fact a furnace.

At least to the Arachneri.

His gaze slowly travelled downwards to stare at his own hand, as he felt the beating of the drums within her chest. Peculiar. Instinct of knowledge wished to inquire further, he wished to know why two hearts but was almost stilted by fear of the scenario itself. This intimacy, this touching.

“Can such warmth not be artificially produced? In perhaps heating equipment or specialised clothing?” Hal replied in a tone that was anything but warm.

[member="Eske"]

 

[Loxa Visl]

"Mmm..." the creature hummed in amused thought, "perhaps ... but indulgent in the artificial, Arachneri are not."

For undisclosed purposes. Slivered tongue flickered through the air once more, those same hands already upon the man smoothed across cloth and skin alike. They were incapable of experiencing the textures in the woven thread or the smoothness of his skin, but what she did feel was as scintillating to her as a human running fingers along satin and silk. The steady beat of blood pulsing beneath flesh, the radiant heat of his skin.

I am the subliminal moth to the flame.

The spider to the Sith.

"No contraption could compare to the conjuration of crude comfort..." sanguine lips pulled taught with mirth, "quite like you." Claw-tipped fingers delicately traipsed the line of his throat before smoothly recalling, curling in the air before her as she took in his feverish splendor, eight eyes of molten steel watching him with keen interest. A flush of air passed between them as great white stalks reached upwards to the high stacks, pulling the bulk of the beastly woman upwards without a hint of effort.

She glided over the man, his hand dropping from her chest and her hair tickling over his shoulders as she swept above, "You distract me, Archivist, and I have lost the hour."

[member="Hal Terrano"]

 

[Hal Terrano]

In that moment Hal couldn't quite fathom what she wanted. Warmth but not artificially? This was hardly the environment to start a fire, the potential destruction was just too great a risk for such.

Gaze, more like grimace, moved from his own hand upon her chest and onto hers, as it caressed his robes in a manner that brought naught but fear and discomfort. Was warmth a representation of physical contact? Blond eyebrows furrowed in thought as yellow eyes took in those predatory talons.

Physical contact made him tense, gave the man the nervous edge of a boy still trapped in the grip of puberty. While technically no longer forbidden, chastity was such a hard-drilled concept that it was near impossible to let go of. A loving touch, a predatory one, hers may have been the latter but both were just as dangerous and led down paths of which there was no return.

Or at least so he believed.

Head titled upwards as her fingers ventured upon his neck, causing the man's jaw to lock even further, highlighting strained tendons upon his neck. He was evidently beyond tense as he looked to those many marauding eyes, his perturbed expression leading to the belief that he might have bolted at any given moment.

Then, much to Terrano's relief the Arachenri began to ascend. He might have taken umbrage with the suggestion that it was he that distracted her but Hal wasn't in any state of mind to argue that point, in fact, he wasn't entirely sure where his state of mind had gone to.

It was only when she was gone that the former-Jedi realised that his breathing had slowed almost to a stop, those last few moments of sinister caressing even causing the man to hold his breath. Composure would eventually return to him, of course, it usually did but in her wake Hal was left both confused and apprehensive, his chest rising and falling in dramatic swings as he stared at the ground for a lot longer than was necessary.

---

[member="Eske"]