Remember Your Enemy

[Dutch]

Six Hours since departing Thyferra…

The kolto tank hissed and belched steam to fill the opaque white chamber. It billowed across the floor to curl lazily about the feet of various medical personnel. They performed their duties in a practiced flow, the rhythmic clicks and following beeps a familiar sound to the Sith as the kolto flowed past his ears. Eyes slid open languidly at the sensation, the glowing crimson iris’ within a strange contrast to the relaxed expression upon his visage. Kolto sloshed and tickled Solis’ feet as it drained from the tank entirely, followed by a click as a clear glass door shifted up and away. The Darth waited patiently as an attendant removed the breathing apparatus, and strode forward unabashed by his lack of clothing. Almost as if on cue the port door to the flagship’s medical bay slid open to reveal an Imperial clad in crisp officer’s regalia. Her boots clicked in the quiet, soft lit room on approach, and fell to one knee before the Sith.

“My Lord, as requested your guest was tended to and now rests within the Order suite.” She reported in a pristine Imperial accent. Solis would nod and dismiss the officer with a wave of his hand. Boots clicked with the same staccato as before as the human departed, and the Darth raised his arms to accept the robes now draped around his form by his vassals. They ritualistically wrapped the pitch fabrics to cover his myriad scars and lines of visible veins. The zelosian softly expressed his praise and gratitude before long legs lead him barefoot from the chamber.

***

There was no sound made by the door to the Order suite, only a still silence as the opaque door slid to the side. The Sith watched it pass before entering, and his gaze took in the regality of it all. Pearlescent walls curved pleasantly throughout the ivory chamber, with accents of gold in the form of ancient Sith art adorned from walls to ceiling. Even the individual alabaster floor tiles were lined in gold, and he would have noticed more decadent details had his eyes not found the sole other occupant within. A wave of his hand closed the door behind him, and slow steps lead Solis closer to the draped form of his Jedi captive. His crimson eyes traced the curve of her body, accentuated by the silken Sith garments that had replaced the soiled robes he had found her in. From within its folds her cybernetic leg lay revealed upon the lavish bed beneath, his handiwork still branded into the kiffar’s skin. He casually sauntered closer, and fingertips began to trace the prosthetic.

The metal was smooth and warm to his cold blooded touch, but not as much as the supple skin above. His fingertips rolled higher to trace the Z shaped scar, and a swooping darkness filled his gut and mind as Tarisian memories roiled within. He could still smell her heady panic, and taste the robust agony as her limb was ravaged then removed. That had been nearly a decade ago, and the Meira Valli before him appeared foreign, yet familiar to that scared little girl. Her tattoos were the same, as was the curl of her lips and shape of her eyes. Gone now though were the rounded curves of a girl, instead replaced by the defined and toned features of an experienced Jedi. His eyes followed the lines of her inner thigh to his hand which still traced the brand. The branches of dark green veins visible over the back of his hand lightly pulsed at a quickened pace, and the Sith’s lips pressed to form a line.

A subtle turbulence at the edge of thought bubbled within his mind, and a shift of her reposing breath hinted of the Jedi beginning to awaken. The Sith let his fingertips fall from smooth coppery skin before he walked away to further dress himself and report to the Sanctum.

***

Darth Solis re-entered the chamber in time to see Meira stir from her slumber. Perfect black robes were draped smartly about his trim form, and gold adorned boots lead him over the polished floor towards her. He would pass the bed entirely, and made for a glass table beneath a oval window. Traces of hyperspace whipped by the starboard viewport, but the Sith didn’t regard it for long. Instead he looked over his shoulder back to the Jedi.

“That garment suites you. Highest quality credits can buy, specially made for the Dark Ladies of the Order. Hope you don’t mind, but your robes were quite ruined in the crash.” The Darth started as a hand lifted the crystal stopper of a decanter.

“Don’t panic. Your ship fell, and you with it. We found you floating in the Thyferran sea alone. It seems I’ve saved your life once more, Master Jedi." He taunted playfully then turned away to retrieve a pair of crystalline glasses.

“Your lightsaber is secured aboard another ship in this fleet. I will personally makes sure it is returned to you, once we arrive.” His crimson gaze turned to regard the black leather belt draped over an ornamental gold light fixture, and the four unique lightsabers clipped to it glinted within the soft glow. Close to him but closer to her, the presence of their crystals folded like breath into his own.

“You can try to for them,” Solis said as his hand wrapped around the neck of the silvery crystal decanter. “And fail.” The sapphire blue wine held within swirled, and then poured lazily into the pair of matching tumblers. Both now pinched between the long, pale fingers of his right hand, the Darth cautiously strode towards the kiffar to extend a glass.

“Or, you can join me for supper. Your choice, little flower.” He offered with a wide winning grin.

[Meira]

"Get everyone to their escape pods."

"They've gone, General."

"Then YOU get to your escape pod."

"Ready when you are, General."

The nav console exploded and the two beings recoiled from the flash and heat. One tried to steer the other toward the emergency hatch, but the Jedi shrugged off the Captain's hand, moving toward the comms station. Tattooed hands moved over the station, trying to activate the controls. But the screens had gone dead and the panel was unresponsive.

"We've got to inform the fleet."

"We can't, General. The array was destroyed. We have to go."

---

There was only fire. The small viewport bloomed in flame as the pod plunged through the atmosphere. The Jedi and the Captain were bathed in the red emergency lighting. They sat silent, minds turned inward as they fell. When the fire of entry faded, the world bellow became visible. A beach, scarred with the debris of fallen ships, came rushing toward them. Then, a warning began to flash in the small pod.

"Brace for impact!" the Captain shouted, looking up from a small data screen.

A moment later their pod lurched violently to the side, throwing the Jedi and Captain against their restraints. The viewport showed the sickening spin they'd been thrown into.

Ocean... beach... sky... ocean... beach... sky...

---

The captain's face, half submerged, with water flowing freely into her mouth.

The taste of copper.

The taste of salt.

---

Meira's eyes opened wide as she gasped and sat up with a start. Her lungs gulped, then coughed, trying to breathe and expel the seawater they'd left behind hours before. Her vision blurred with the coughing fit, obscuring her surroundings as her arms lashed out, grasping and pushing away whatever they touched.

They touched... soft fabric. She froze, vision still blurred but starting to find form in the white. One hand gripped the fabric while the other raised to wipe at her eyes. She blinked several times, beginning to recognize that she was certainly not on a Thyferran beach.

“That garment suites you."

She froze. The sound of that voice had sent a shock of electricity down her spine. That voice. A surge of adrenaline pulsed through her and Meira suddenly saw the room with perfect clarity. The bed, the simple furnishings. She launched to her feet, her right foot landing silently on the cool tile just before the metallic clunk of her prosthetic. Through the force, she reached for her lightsaber, but found it missing from her consciousness. Her hands touched at her waist, noting now the garment that voice spoke of.

She saw him now, a black stain in the room. Her nose instinctively curled at the sight of him. His gaze shifted to the side, and Meira's followed to see the belt and lightsabers that hung there. Four of them. Who could possibly need four lightsabers? The thought intruded on her mind and Meira pushed it away, grasping for clarity instead. She quickly judged the distance, the odds. But he had already done the same. A temptation, then.

Meira breathed deeply, willing her body to refocus and calm. She stood herself up from the readied crouched stance she'd taken upon leaping from the bed. The unfamiliar dress hung strangely on her skin, but she dismissed the alien feel of it. Zarander approached with two glasses of blue liquid. Meira's eyes met his straight on as he made his offer, extending one of the glasses toward her. She would not take the drink, though she imagined it was safe enough. If he'd wanted to kill her, he would have done it on Thyferra, or while she was unconscious. She stepped away from him, moving toward the viewport. No, he would not have killed her like that either. Zarander would want to play with his captive first. That's what this was.

"Are you a Dark Lady now then?" she asked after taking a few moments to center herself. "Where are you taking me?"

[Dutch]

He laughed softly, the sound melded with a gentle hum of an active hyperdrive. The Darth’s head tilted in amusement, and his dark hair curled upon a robed shoulder. His crimson eyes glinted at the Jedi’s sass, and a light sigh ended the amused chortle.

“Something like that.” Solis replied before his free hand took a glass and brought it to his green-tinted lips. The drink was cooling and smooth, and the crisp vintage swirled over tongue before being swallowed. Another sigh, this one of satisfaction, would escape the Sith as he raised his glass to swirl and admire the deep blue liquid.

“Now where am I taking you? Force willing to the private dining chamber for some vittles and decent conversation.” His gaze turned back to Meira, her profile accented by the spectacle of hyperspace. It wasn’t difficult to sense her dissatisfaction at his answer. A smug grin curled his lips, and Solis began to approach Meira with a casual gait. His eyes would trace and admire the lines of her back, still turned to him as she looked out the viewport. He noted unfamiliar toning from last he’d seen her, the lithe shape of her form doing the borrowed dress many favors.

“Prazhi.” He lied smoothly, and the darkside ebbed heady about his mind to hide their true destination; Ziost. The Darth now stood just at the Jedi’s shoulder, and his glowing gaze dipped to assess her expression. It didn’t take the Force for him to feel the way she bristled, at him and her surroundings.

“Relax, dearest Meira. You’re no prisoner here, but an honored guest.” Solis’ voice was a smooth croon as he offered the tumbler of lavish wine once more.

“It’s many hours before our arrival, and you’ve certainly earned a bit of respite, no?”

[Meira]

His laughter caused the hair on the back of her neck to bristle. She didn't even bother to hide her annoyance from him. Zarander knew that she disliked him. And there was no stopping the gloating and self-satisfied monologue either way. She could feel his senses in the room, though he did little to prod at her. Meira remembered that the disciplines of the mind were not Zarander's strong suit. But it had been many years since they'd last been in each other's presence. She had certainly changed, would it be any wonder if he had? Meira extended her own senses around herself and out into the room. She was not prodding either, simply occupying the space.

When Zarander voiced their destination, a shift in the force around him hinted that it was likely a lie. Meira turned, her eyes connecting directly with his. Still, she did not prod. Either they would arrive at Prazhi, or they would not. Until that time, she was stuck here... with him.

“Relax, dearest Meira. You’re no prisoner here, but an honored guest.”

Meira quirked an eyebrow at him. Her eyes didn't leave his as he once again offered her the glass of blue liquid. Once again, she did not take it. Instead, she crossed her arms, easing her weight onto her right leg, her whole demeanor one of slightly amused disbelief.

"An honored guest?" she echoed, after a moment. "Alright then."

Meira turned, moving with a casual swiftness toward the door of the room, the skirt of the dress flowing behind her in a silent flutter. She reached the door, but it did not automatically open before her. Pressing at the panel alongside the door did not open it either. To drive the point home, Meira waved her arms as if searching for some unseen sensor. She hopped in place near the door, then turned back toward Zarander. She lifted her arms as if to say how strange and then let them fall back to her sides.

"As an honored guest," she said, crossing her arms again, "I'd like to register a complaint. Your doors don't seem to work."

[Dutch]

The Sith looked at the unaccepted glass before it would be set down next to the matching carafe with a light clink. He turned to watch the Jedi’s display, a coy smile perched upon lips as a shift lead him to lean a hip against the table. With a tilted head and gleaming eyes, Solis took a sip from his wine and appreciated the show. Everything from the defiance, to her swagger spoke of who Meira had become over the years, the development as clear physically as metaphysically.

“You’ve changed.” Said the zelosian. He set his half-empty tumbler next to her full one with the same clink and rolled languidly to his feet. The Darth stood tall as his presence in the Force shifted and rolled outward like a dense fog. Non-threatening but far from subtle, his dusky aura would press around hers like oil over water. It wouldn’t be an unfamiliar approach, almost the same as Jedi beginning a mind-meld. Solis wouldn’t press the sensile handshake for a meld, but instead let his presence slide over and explore the taste of hers further.

“A glib tongue does you credit,” He began as a slow step took him forward. The Sith approached with a confident ease, hands spread in an appreciative gesture. His crimson gaze shined gleeful as he neared, and a green-veined hand rose to press against the wall above Meira’s shoulder as he leaned closer. He breathed in her scent, and peered down to look over her new scars and toned body.

“Makes me curious what else you’ve learned…” Solis crooned in amusement. He raised his free hand to the other side of the Jedi, her corporeal warmth pleasant as his hand found the door panel she previously tried. His palm pressed into it, and the port would slide open soundlessly behind the Jedi.

[Meira]

"You seem exactly the same." she replied.

Meira remained motionless as Zarander approached. Her eyes stayed on him, her senses attuned and ready. But Zarander had no need to attack. He held all of the advantages here. He no doubt believed himself entirely safe. He probably was. Even if Meira could spot an opening and end him, she was still on a Sith ship, mid hyperspace jump, with no idea where she would be once they'd dropped out. Zarander was an important target, but not so important that she'd throw her own life away just to take him out. Unless something else presented itself on this ship that would make it a worthy sacrifice, Meira would wait.

She did not push back when she felt his senses around her. She didn't need to. It was easy to tell that this was still not his area of expertise. When his presence within the force moved too close, she simply dismissed it from herself. Zarander leaned over her, and she found herself wishing she could dismiss his physical presence so easily. When he activated the door control, Meira took a smooth step back from him, and then turned to walk down the hallway. She got the distinct feel that, as the Sith's plaything, she would not be disturbed by any crew member she crossed paths with. And if she was, Zarander would likely deal with that for her. All the same to her, she decided. She would make her way to the bridge, if she could, and see about speaking with the ship's captain. It would likely do her no good, she knew, but she was a Jedi on an enemy ship. The proper thing to do would be to parlay with the captain.

"Which way to the bridge, Zarander?" she asked, over her shoulder.

[Dutch]

“Zarander…” The Sith murmured, amused that he should hear the name twice in such a short amount of time. It had been years since anyone had called him by his surname, and as odd as it was to hear the zelosian couldn’t deny the familiar nostalgia it brought. He remained near the door for a moment, both hands pressed into the frame as a low chuckle escaped green tinted lips. His gaze turned to peer back at the ornate light fixture, and the black leather belt which hung from it. A hand raised with a tug within the Force, and said belt lifted then drifted across the room. Caught by long fingers, the Darth stepped out to follow Meira as she sauntered away. Crimson eyes watched the roll of her form as she walked, and the zelosian strode smoothly to catch up.

Both hands casually worked to buckle the Sith dueling rig, the sturdy leather a comfort over his hip points as it was secured. The lightsabers had an almost merry jingle to them, as each step gently jostled the stowed weapons to clink against one another.

“Come now, little flower, use the Force to find your way.” The Darth would tease as his own presence rolled forth down the hall as if to show her the way. He would still follow the Jedi, despite his aura taking the lead in their walk, curious to see if Meira would go full Vreem Took in her predicament. Jedi were as unpredictable as Sith in this Quiet War, but whether hers was a mission of war or peace was yet to be revealed. He couldn’t peer into her mind the way his Mistress could, but the zelosian would certainly handle the petite woman if needed.

Several moments later, and the pair would stand before the heavy, sealed bridge blast door. The Sith grinned down at the Jedi, and a wave of his hand ushered it to glide open with a pressurized hiss. All within turned to see who had entered, and those standing immediately fell to one knee nearly in unison. Those who were not all bowed their heads, and averted their eyes from the two Force adepts. No sounds except the usual blips and beeps of a starships’ control center sounded, and the zelosian smiled wider at Meira before he swept into the bridge with arms held wide.

“Greetings and good tidings, my Imperial brethren.” He smoothly turned on a heel and lowered one arm, the other held out towards the kiffar in her elegant Sith garb.

“Please give your warm regards and unwavering respect to my latest acquisition, Meira Valli; my future apprentice and your next Dark Lady of the Sith...”

[Meira]

She moved in silence, spare for the soft metallic thud of every other step. Zarander hadn't seen fit to provide her with shoes. But it didn't matter. She might have been self conscious about her prosthetic in the past, but the years had taught her that there were far more important things for her to think about than what others were thinking about her. Saving lives, for one.

His presence within the force came up quickly behind her, surrounded her, and then moved ahead as if to guide the way. Ignoring his words, Meira followed where his presence led. Thankfully, he did not feel the need to continue his mindless chattering while they walked and so she was able to turn her mind back inward for a precious few moments. She needed to take advantage of what mobility was allowed to her while she could. Zarander was fickle. If at any point he lost interest in his games, she would be in a cell, or simply dead.

They reached the doors to the bridge and Zarander paused a moment to smile at her before motioning for them to open. He was always smiling, she thought. A sense of disgust washed over her. Meira allowed the feeling of it long enough to acknowledge what it was and why she felt it before dismissing it from her mind. She had been disgusted to see a being so content, so joyful even, with his role in the slaughter of so many lives. All in the pursuit of something for fleeting as power. She did not acknowledge to pity that came after, small and weak as it was.

Zarander stepped through the doorway onto the bridge and those within all quickly bowed or knelt at his presence. Meira followed in after him, ignoring his false introduction as her eyes searched for the captain of the ship. She found the woman kneeling just beside where Zarander had stopped and turned. Of course, she thought, he'd put himself right in the way. She moved over to the woman, standing directly in front of her.

"Captain," she said, her voice carrying a touch of the force to hold the woman's attention. "my name is Meira Valli. I am a Jedi. In spite of what he says, I am no member of the Sith. The taking of enemy prisoners is a clear violation of the articles of the Armistice between the Sith Empire and the Galactic Republic. It is my understanding that this act was done without your clear knowledge or express consent. I will report as much when you return me to a Republic ship as soon as you are able."

She looked up at Zarander. "The blame will be entirely on his shoulders."

[Dutch]

The Sith checked his fingernails and flicked out a grain of sand from them as Meira spoke, a smug smile perched upon his lips. His crimson eyes turned to hers when he felt them turn towards him, and the grin grew toothy. Shoulders shrugged nonchalantly, and a second but final grain of sand would be freed.

“Only wanted to give you a taste of possibility. That which could be…” He replied casually. The captain, an exquisite example of pure-bred human, regarded the Jedi with furrowed blonde brows. Her hair of matching tone rest in a long thick braid over one shoulder, and across a decorated officer’s uniform. A perfectly manicured hand would sweep the braid back from her medals, and crystalline blue eyes would look to the zelosian. There would be no fear, nor far-off glaze of an affected mind; instead a look of genuine confusion and concern would grace her comely features.

“The Lord Inquisitor saved your life, My Lady.” The captain began as her eyes met the Jedi’s once more. They would dip down to regard Meira’s prosthetic and a single brow twitched. “Again.”

She turned on a heel of her polished black boots and walked to the holotable across the bridge from the trio. The click-clack of her boots would join the ambient rhythm of operational sounds, and several ensigns shot Meira a similar sideways looks of curiosity. The Sith remained where he stood, though his gaze did follow the beautiful officer. Once at the holotable, she began to key in commands with practiced grace.

“I am Captain Sava Q’ril Cardellia of the battleship Her Sublimity, and should you attempt to force my cognitive state again you’ll be detained.” Her introduction was delivered in a cordial manner, crisp Imperial accent leaving no question that her words were chosen with proper purpose. Another key stroke and a scan of her datapad brought up an astro-map with their current hyperspace route highlighted. The galaxy map spun glittering above the table, and a single hand lifted to gesture towards it.

“On his orders, we are meant to pass within the Prazhi Neutral Zone on private Order business before continuing towards Imperial space.” Captain Cardellia’s hand would trace the line which lead there. “Should you desire, a stop and personal escort will show you to the Republic Embassy on-world,” The hand would fall to rest at a wide hip, posture perfect as she regarded the Jedi once more. Both eyebrows would raise, and a warm smile touched peach lips. “Or, you stay.”

The Imperial woman let those words hang as she switched off the map, and logged out from the table. She collected her datapad and keyed a quick command before it was tucked under an elbow.

“We have nearly six hours before we drop out of hyperspace, until then all non-military levels are open to you.” Her pointed chin would gesture towards the spectating zelosian, and his glowing red eyes glinted with amusement in the ambient light.

“Darth Solis will ensure our safety from any sort of sabotage and attend to your personal comforts as needed.”

Solis bowed his head to Cardellia and shot Meira a smirk. Long, slow strides turned and took him away from the two women towards the bridge observatory. Once well out of earshot his hands would fall to clasp behind his back, fingers intertwined as his gaze regarded the passing display of hyperspace.

“Do you require anything else, My Lady?” Asked the Captain with her attention fully upon their Jedi guest.

[Meira]

"“The Lord Inquisitor saved your life, My Lady.”

Meira did not argue the point.

"Again."

"For his own amusement." she said as the captain moved away. "Not out of any concern for my own well being, I assure you."

Meira followed the captain to the holotable, ignoring Zarander and the other beings on the bridge. She offered a slight bow of her head to acknowledge Captain Cardellia's warning. It was not necessary, but if it made the woman feel safer, then Meira took no offense. The captain then pulled up the display of their route through hyperspace, indicating where it would pass through the neutral zone. She nodded.

"Thankful as I am for your hospitality, Captain, I will require that transport." Meira said, her own voice matching the cordial but clipped tone of the captain. The woman concluded with a gesture toward Zarander that he -Darth Solis? Meira's eyebrow quirked at that as she watched the zelosian walk away toward the observatory- would ensure the ship's safety from any foul play on Meira's part. Darth Solis. Were the Sith really so desperate for leadership that they would give him more power? Meira shook her head. She did not understand the logic of letting a madman like Zarander run anything.

“Do you require anything else, My Lady?”

Meira's green eyes turned back toward the captain, whose features were a carefully controlled mask of indifference that belied the impatience to return to her command that simmered underneath. Meira turned to face the woman squarely, clasping her hands and bowing to the captain.

"Please, Master Valli." she said. "Thank you, Captain Cardellia. If possible, I only request the return of my clothing and belongings as soon as possible."

"Your belongings will be returned to you once your transport has arrived at the Republic Embassy on Prazhi." The captain said, and then turned away and back to her work.

"Understood." Meira said.

Now thoroughly ignored by the bridge crew, Meira looked around, trying to determine her best course of action. She had six hours in this captivity. She wondered idly if it would be better if they'd just put her in a cell. The pseudo-freedom they offered was its own sort of cage. Her eyes moved over Zarander's form. His back was to her as he looked out onto the banded lights of hyperspace. The way she saw it, Meira had two choices. She could leave the bridge, in search of some quiet place to perhaps meditate for the remainder of the trip. That would of course be thwarted when Zarander inevitably followed her. She would then spend the remainder of the voyage with his grating voice in her ears, rambling incessantly. Meira's jaw clenched at the thought. Or, she could bite the proverbial blaster bolt and just go over to him. Either way, she would spend the remainder of the voyage with his grating voice in her ears, rambling incessantly. She sighed, and then turned on her heels, walking through the bridge door back into the main corridor. Surely a few brief moments away from him would be better than nothing.

[Dutch]

Captain Cardellia watched the Jedi go, and turned a single impatient eyebrow to the Darth’s back after. Her boots clicked as she strode towards him, fingers flicking busily over the held datapad. She stood close to Solis, who leaned an ear towards her though his eyes never left the bands of hyperspace light. Crystalline blue eyes turned back towards Meira as she exited, and they narrowed with suspicion.

“She’s dangerous.” Cardellia murmured, and Jessoin grinned with amusement.

“More than she knows.” He replied, and turned his gaze to peer at the blonde woman. A single hand rose to rest upon the shoulder of the Captain’s uniform and the Sith turned his head to better look back at the bridge door as it closed.

“Let us attend to our duties, Sava.”

A light pat of her shoulder would be given before Solis too turned on his heels to stride away. Lightsabers jingled merrily within the hushed chamber with every other step, and a small tug of the Force would reopen the bay doors for him. Long strides lead him to catch up to the woman sooner than later, silent for the moment as his eyes traced the strong lines of her back. The more he studied her figure, the more coiled definition he could spot, and the more correct his earlier statement seemed. This absolutely was not the same fearful, mewling girl from Taris. Darth Solis had yet to fully meet this new form of his favorite Jedi.

Hands fell back to clasp behind his back, and a side-step moved him to now walk beside Meira to her right side. He decided to let her take the lead by half a step, truly allowing her to lead them wherever she planned to go next.

‘You’ve really never considered it? Coming to the Empire?” He queried with a curious grin.

“I do believe you’d do well.”

[Meira]

It was a spare few moments between when the bridge doors closed behind her and when they opened again. Meira used that time to focus on her breathing. She'd paused in the corridor, eyes closing as she inhaled deeply. Her torso rose as her lungs filled with the sterile air of the ship. Her mind became aware of each knot and coil of muscle in her shoulders as back, of the tension she was holding there. Meira let it all fall away as she exhaled. It wasn't like meditation, long hours spent drifting in the eddies of the Force. But the war had taught Meira to quickly center herself in only a few moments. Battles were rarely forgiving of those who needed longer. As her eyes opened, Meira began to move forward again. She had no particular destination. The ship would be open to her where it would, and closed everywhere else. She was not alone much longer.

Jessoin fell into step to her right and just slightly behind her. She could feel his eyes on her, but it didn't bother her. Eyes couldn't do anything, after all. She moved down the corridor, pausing here and there to consider a doorway or a lift. But it seemed each option led to areas where other soldiers or ship crew occupied the space. The last thing Meira wanted to do was give Zarander an audience.

"You’ve really never considered it? Coming to the Empire?” he asked, grinning at her. “I do believe you’d do well.”

They'd reached the end of the long main corridor. Before them was a door, which Meira waved open with a gesture. Beyond the door, she found a spare circular space. There was seating, consisting of two semicircle couched at the outer two sides of the room that faced inward toward each other. The wall opposite where they entered was entirely transparisteel, allowing for a grand view of the hyperspace light show as they traveled. A meeting space, perhaps? Meira looked around, and then moved back toward the window.

"I considered it in great detail, actually." Meira said, not turning to look at her captor. "The best routes; which planets were most heavily fortified; which were held under duress and might turn against the Empire if liberated." she glanced sideways at him then, giving a slight shrug of the shoulder. "But then the armistice was signed. I agree though, I think we would have done well."

She sat herself down then, cross legged on the floor with hands resting lightly on her knees. "Have you ever thought of returning to the Order?"

[Dutch]

The Sith laughed gently at her reply, absolutely certain she was speaking truth. He followed her towards the viewport within the Order’s private meeting chamber. The walls themselves were lined with metals and wards meant to keep other’s minds from easily penetrating the veil, and the circle was reunited by a wave of Solis’ hand as he pulled shut the door behind him. It would now literally just be the two of them, corporeal and incorporeal as the presences of all else aboard became a muted fog outside the chamber. The Cult of Mysteries craft wonders… The Darth idly thought before quickly reining them back in.

With a tranquil but controlled aura he smoothly fell in next to Meira to cross legs and sit in a perfect easy meditation pose. Literally the same as hers, down to which leg was crossed and both hands upon knees. His structure was perhaps a bit wider, given his sinewy build, but the form how any Jedi would sit. The Force would stir around him gently in a slow rotation, and his presence would ebb against hers non-threateningly.

“Which Order?” He replied, a wise-ass grin plastered across his face. His shoulder gave a shrug which mirrored her own earlier. “You and I both know that’s not an option. One step upon the Processional Way and a Sniper takes my head.”

“I’m sure your intention is genuine, little flower. But no, thank you.” He snickered as both eyebrows raised. “I like where it is now, and plan to keep it there.”

“Believe it or not, I’ve built something here.” Solis said with a following sigh. Pale hands slid back to press palms to cool floor, and the Sith cracked his neck with a tilt of his head. Both long legs would unfold and stretch out, one boot then another kicked off before he stretched his toes towards hyperspace. Red eyes traced the lines of dark green veins which snaked out from beneath black robes, not unlike roots in the way they splayed over the zelosian’s feet. He then rolled his head over shoulders with another pop to turn his gaze towards hers.

“Truly, you never tire of it? Ever?” Jessoin asked, his tone perhaps a shade gentle, genuine curiosity within his query.

[Meira]

As he closed the door, Meira felt the presence of all the beings beyond the rooms walls fade to a mere whisper in her consciousness. The only reaction he might have seen was a slight tilt of her head as it happened, as one might do when trying to hear something faint or far away. It was impressive, but seemed something like cheating. The walls of the room did almost half the work for anyone within. That was the way of the Sith though, she thought. Always cutting corners. Though, Meira supposed that it might not be entirely true. She knew several Jedi who did not take so naturally to meditation as she did, who seemed to keep their center somewhere outside of themselves, rather than within.

He came and sat himself next to her. Meira, close-eyed, did not move away or react to his presence in any way. Her mind was already moving along that inwardly spiraling path, each revolution taking her deeper into that place of serenity. Her awareness of her surroundings was not diminished. Quite the contrary. The further inward Meira circled, the more apparent everything around her became. The gossamer threads that bound all things together slowly revealed themselves to her, like dew covered spider webs. Even her connection to Zarander could be seen here. As life forms, the Force flowed through, around, and between them. As two beings sensitive to that Force, it moved like a tide, pulling all things toward each of them. Through her mind's eye, though, Meira could also see how the dark side clung to him. Like some oil drenched sea creature it covered his frame. He spoke, and it took some moments for his words to filter through to her on her spiraling trek.

"Perhaps." she said, her voice sounding distant to her own ears. "But attachment clouds the mind. Confuses judgment."

“I’m sure your intention is genuine, little flower. But no, thank you. I like where it is now, and plan to keep it there.”

"The best laid plans..." she began, but left off the ending of the common phrase, a faint smile settling on her lips.

“Believe it or not, I’ve built something here.”

"That you have, but at what cost? How many lives is your vanity worth?"

There were a spare few moments of silence, and in that time Meira had reached the innermost point of her path. This place of peace within herself. No light, no shadow. No heat or cold. All senses meaningless, unnecessary. She was in this place when he spoke again. She did not so much hear his words as she simply knew them. The question was so incredibly absurd. How could one ever grow tired of this. The humor she felt in reaction to his question pulled at her consciousness. Had she wanted, she could dismiss it and stay there. But this was perhaps not the best place to remain in a trance. The armistice agreement was a powerful one, but it would not do to push things by tempting a Sith. That would be like taunting a beast and then getting angry when it bit you. Slowly, she brought herself back outward into her body again. Those fine connection winking out from her perception, though not from existence. She could feel the slight current of air as it pumped in and was pulled out of the room. She could hear the faint hum of the engines. She could -Meira curled her nose slightly- smell Zarander's feet.

She chuckled, turning her emerald eyes toward his. His had been green as well, once. "Why did you?"

[Dutch]

Why did you?

The query echoed, and like a drop into water reality ebbed from Solis’ mind’s eye. Meira and the chamber fell away, and pitch flowed over everything; and into the Void. A perfect triangle of equally perfect darkness. Set in stone somewhere cold and wet, its borders smooth, and welcoming. It could be so easy, to let his conscience slip over the rounded granite contour into inky oblivion. There was a tone, not an audible din but something felt, and the inside of Solis’ ears itched. The Void sang, and swelled into his presence until the sound became unbearable.

His veins burned bright, ethereal glass needles grew from his pupils.

And then reality suddenly returned, and Meira’s brilliant eyes were there looking into his.

He blinked, perhaps the first in some moments as his eyes were very dry. The Darth's presence was raw, ragged, and unfurled but quickly aggregated. Composure reset, a single hand rose to rub at his eyes, and the Sith shrugged his opposite shoulder. On the off chance this particular episode had been short, Jess wagered an attempt to carry on the conversation as if a malevolent force hadn’t just attempted to seize his mind. Again.

“Me? Tire of the Jedi? Never.” The zelosian chortled, if a bit forcibly. He cleared his throat and let the hand fall from his eyes to rest upon the floor beside Meira.

“Do you truly not know?” He asked, his tone soft, perhaps a bit taken aback. “I’m surprised the Councils haven’t used my exodus as an example. Or a warning.”

Solis rested back further onto his hands, and idly stretched his shoulders with a low sigh.

“I actually loved being a Jedi Diplomat. A natural, really. But the Jedi Order betrayed me. After my Master betrayed all of us.”

[Meira]

But his eyes were empty when she looked his way, the question she posed hanging in the air between them. Those red irises stared into the middle distance, unblinking but not without life. It seemed he'd slipped into his own meditation. Meira watched him, curious as to how a Sith might manage meditation. Surely it was not the same. One could not see tranquility in the chaos of the dark side. Yet, for some time he breathed slow and steady, his form barely moving and his eyes still as stone. Curious still, Meira extended her senses toward him, feeling along those currents connecting them both, unable to see them as before but knowing where to find them all the same.

It was a simple movement toward connection, no where near so profound as the mind meld, but enough for Meira to begin to sense his mind. Each increment closer to his presence, Meira could feel the shift in her awareness of their surroundings. At first, she simply began to note the difference of perspective in the room as she came to feel his sense of space in the physical surroundings. It was something like having her eyes unfocused and seeing two ghostly images of the space around her almost -but not quite- superimposed on one another. Then, through him, she felt the room as colder than her own body registered. She idly wondered if that was due to his plant-like genetics. She even began to feel the comfort he seemed to be getting from whatever place his meditations took him.

But then some other sensation began to move through the Sith, and Meira felt the echoes of the discomfort it imparted. Some strange note, so sharp and piercing that Meira winced, withdrawing from it and from him quickly. Shaking her head, she now saw through her own eyes that he was strained, veins dark against pale skin and a slight sheen of sweat at his brow. Then he was blinking, his unused eyes now present again and looking back into hers. He took a moment to recover, rubbing at his eyes.

“Me? Tire of the Jedi? Never.” he said, chuckling.

Meira's brow furrowed in confusion.

“Do you truly not know? I’m surprised the Councils haven’t used my exodus as an example. Or a warning.”

She then realized he was answering the question she had ask several minutes before. He leaned back, casual as could be, giving his short reply. Meira watched him, dumbstruck. She wasn't sure if she wanted to know what had just happened to him. Did he even know? But, he did not acknowledge it, and it wasn't as if she would be of any help... if it was even a problem. For all she knew, it was part of the appeal for Sith. They were a strange and broken type, after all.

"I'm sure you have your reasons for feeling that way." she said, turning slightly so that she faced him more directly. "But is there no forgiveness in your heart? And this..." she gestured toward him with a hand, "pain you subject yourself to. What could possibly be worth such a price?"

[Dutch]

The Darth shifted forward as his heels slid back to press bare feet upon a cold floor to sit upright. A hand unhooked one of his lightsabers from the belt at his waist; A polished silvery hilt, curved at the end with an intricate pommel in the shape of an eagle’s head. The lightsaber he had crafted during his Jedi Trials. Both of his arms would rest upon bent knees, and long fingers idly traced the metal lines of the eagle-faced pommel. He did not make eye contact with Meira as she shifted to face him better, for her words cut the cool climate controlled air truly.

“It’s been two years. My time hunting Jedi is over. I have forgiven. My Master. The Jedi.” Solis started, despite the low residual ringing in his ears from the episode. “I want nothing to do with your Order.”

He paused with a contemplative silence before his gaze did eventually turn to hers. Brilliant red iris’ met shining green, and the Sith felt something strange in his gut at the way she looked at him. Unable to hold her gaze, the zelosian let his eyes follow the lines of her sheer, borrowed dress down to her prosthetic leg, and lingered over it momentarily before he looked back up to meet the Jedi’s eyes once more.

“Well, with the rare exception.” He added with a smirk and a wink her way. Another sharp pain sang from the winking eye to the back of his brain, and cut through his presence within the Force. The pitch returned high and piercing, and the Sith silently cursed it.

It irked Solis that this episode should flare up when a Jedi could witness it, and should it have been anyone but Meira Valli he would have struck them down for witnessing. Though more preferable over any within the Sith Order, he hated that she should see him at a point of weakness. He realized his silence once more, and that it was simply moot to try and deny what was happening. With a sigh the Sith slowly opened his eyes and turned his head to gaze out at the display of hyperspace, his skin even paler, his visage perhaps hollow in appearance like that of a dying tree.

“There’s no denying it, is there? This… change… was the price for my ascendance. Not within the Sith Order. That was a simple game of politics. This… this is the Force.” Solis smiled softly, but didn’t regard the Jedi just yet. His lightsaber was rolled over a palm and up the underside of his fingers, held up now by the tips of his pointer and middle fingers to display the perfectly balanced hilt. He could feel the crystal within buzz through the Force, a balm to his ailment if there ever was one. It would be rolled back into his palm before the Sith shifted to mirror Meira's position and pressed the lightsaber into her open palm. His eyes found hers once more as his hand rested on the Jedi’s, the lightsaber warm between them, but her touch warmer.

“I’ve awakened something, Meira.” He said as he let his fingertips slide off her palm and the lightsaber left to remain in the kiffar’s hand.

“... and I think it’s killing me.”

[Meira]

This was strange. It was the only way she could describe it. Two years ago, if she'd envisioned herself sitting on a Sith ship, chatting about the nature of the Jedi and the Sith calmly with Jessoin Zarander, Meira would have committed herself to a medical facility for psychiatric evaluation. Yet here she was, cross legged and listening to the very man who took her leg. Presumably he'd done so to save her life, but that light z still present on her thigh had not been cut with altruistic intentions.

“I want nothing to do with your Order.”

Then go in peace, she thought and almost said. But the way his eyes moved over her, and the words that followed reminded the Kiffar of who the man was. Or, at least, who he projected to the world. The cocky, predator-like facade only returned for a moment, however, before that sharp pain washed over him again.

She watched him wince and try to hide what was happening, but there was no hiding the way his skin paled, the way the muscles beneath flexed and strained. Even if the automatic responses of his body had not betrayed him, the force did. Meira still attuned and receptive to the flow around them felt the sting faintly at the periphery of her own perception of the space, like feeling the spike of energy before a lightning strike nearby. But Meira had not made herself a lightning rod, and so that sting had moved around her and into Zarander.

No...

Into Solis. She could see now that he was indeed a different man than before, just as the Zarander she'd known before had been different than the padawan that had fled the Order. How exhausting it must be, to constantly have to remake one's self. Meira thanked the Force that she had not met such a fate and resolved to remember this lesson should she ever face such terrible temptation in the future.

“There’s no denying it, is there?"

Meira shook her head but did not speak, allowing him to continue. Even as he spoke, she knew she would not understand. It was not the theory, it was the motivation that she did not understand. Whatever was inside of him that pushed him toward more was not inside of her. That desire to command, to dominate; she was blessedly bereft of it. He moved, facing her more directly and suddenly placed the lightsaber he'd been holding into her palm. In that moment, charged and connected to the Force as they both were, Meira felt the sting of Solis' corruption move sharp and clear into her palm and up her arm. Her natural ability in psychometry opened and Meira had to consciously cut off the flow of memories the weapon threatened to pour into her. The hilt practically buzzed in her palm, but Meira staunched the flow, her eyes still focusing on the man and his confession.

“I’ve awakened something, Meira.” he said, his hand falling away and leaving the lightsaber in her grasp. “... and I think it’s killing me.”

"Then let it go." she implored. The lightsaber fell to the floor with a soft thump as her hand instead reached out to grab his. She ignored the cold, clammy feel and gripped his hand tight, pulling it back and him closer. Her eyes held his, searching for any remnant of the individual there -past the broken and corrupted Dark Lord, past the bluffing and crass fallen Jedi- for the man that must still be inside him somewhere. "Choose life, Jessoin." she said, her hand moving up to grip his forearm as the other touched his cheek. "If not with the Jedi, then away from the Sith. The path you're on only leads to death. Surely you see that?"

[Dutch]

"Then let it go."

The thump of his lightsaber hitting the ground and Meira’s warm touch surprised the Sith, to the point where he involuntarily started and recoiled. But her grip was strong, and instead pulled him closer. Solis could only let it happen with jaw clenched and breath stuttered. Rendered speechless by the sudden gesture, he watched the Jedi as she spoke. His red eyes would slowly trace between each of her brilliant greens before they dipped to watched the soft motion of her lips utter Choose life, Jessoin. They would return contact, the lines around his eyes softening and the grip of his jawline slackening.

Jessoin.

He felt his chest tighten as she shifted closer, and moved to grip his arm. His lips parted gently in surprise as Meira’s hand gently graced his cheek, her touch hot against skin as the look in his eyes shifted to a mixture of disbelief and humility. The Sith silently seethed as emotion knotted his throat, as the Jedi’s words cut through his facade. Fear dripped sickeningly into his gut, and his free hand rose to flutter fingertips over the back of hers until their fingers melded. His breath ragged, he huffed a small, sad laugh and locked eyes with Meira, his afire with roiling onus.

“I always see it.” Jessoin breathed. “Always. In waking nightmare. In nebulous sleep. Nothing balms… little soothes … it has infected me in ways you can’t imagine…”

The way Meira still looked at him, knowing full well quite through him, only peeled his defense further. For the first time, the Sith allowed another to glimpse the pressuring malevolence which bubbled beneath his presence. Almost like a tar attempting to crawl up through geological faults, it bled into the zelosian, and for a brief moment he wanted nothing more than to embrace Meira. To hold her close and feel the warmth of her body, the flutter of her heart against his. Anything to help push the encroaching Void deep and away.

It would seem to react almost intelligently, as a spike of inky corruption wedged into the Darth’s thoughts. He could see the arm where Meira gripped, and that now free hand opening as his lightsaber flipped to it. He could see the emerald blade snap to life in the process, the beam of energy easily cleaving the Jedi as her very essence did him now. He could see her parted form collapse, and her vivid eyes drain of life. Solis exhaled shakily as ill revulsion churned, and a shift within the Force would suddenly lift the Sith eerily away. His bare feet touched the cold floor to shift and turn his back towards her, and the frame of his form trembled slightly. The presence which whirled like angry wasps around them settled after a moment, and breath returned to normal as the Darth’s composure solidified.

“In time, you may understand. I need the Sith. I need my resources.” The zelosian said at last, his voice closer to its normal patterns now. “For now, anyway. If there’s one thing our time will be known for, it’s our ever-shifting leadership”. He looked back over his shoulder, and a look of keen assurance glinted within.

“Some things do change.” Jessoin said as a galant, genuine grin slid wide. His presence recoiled tightly to shift around his corporeal form, but the fine line between Sith and Jedi still shined in the Force between them.

“And some do not”

[Meira]

He hesitated, and then spoke. For the briefest of moments Meira sensed that he did wish to heed her words, to turn his back on the darkness that threatened him. She felt the struggle... and felt it die. A tingling sensation ran up and down her spine as her eyes saw some shift in his. Every nerve in her body ignited in warning that this Sith was about to attack. She could almost just feel him calling the dropped lightsaber to hand.

As Solis shifted, so did Meira. She had been prepared to spring backward, to defend herself in whatever way she could. But he simply stood and turned his back toward her. Meira did rise, the tension having returned to her muscles. Perhaps that had been foolish. Yes, he had struggled. She knew she felt that uncertainty there. But it was such a weak struggle it had hardly been worth noting. Whatever remained of the true Jessoin was thoroughly buried. There was no pulling him out of that mire. Not now. Some part of Meira ached inside at that fact. It was a tragedy, in truth. But in practice, she could not afford to mourn one who had surrendered himself so completely to the evil that now consumed Solis. If she would protect others from the same fate, she would have to let go of that loss.

"Whatever you are hoping to become," she said, noting the way his presence recoiled and became that public mask of his, "If you need this... corruption to achieve it, then you will never succeed. If you are not enough, Jessoin... then nothing ever will be."

She sighed again. Perhaps there was someone that could convince him, that could guide his mind toward reason once again. She, apparently, was not the one for the job. She regarded the being before her now. Those moments of connection had reminded her of the man beneath. The Force had provided the opportunity for mercy, for redemption. But he had refused it, or she had failed him. In any case, Jessoin Zarander was not the one who grinned at her now. This was Darth Solis. Armistice or no, this was her enemy. The only mercy she could give now would be a swift death, as painless as possible. But not today. Today she would have to walk away from this evil and leave it still breathing behind her. It was not a pleasant thought, but it was the way of things. Eventually, the Force might bring their paths to cross again. For now... her stomach growled.

"What's for dinner then?" she asked, her own voice falling back into the casually indifferent tone recent years had taught her.