Twist the Arm

[Dutch]

The Sith Citadel of Ziost was all buzzing traffic and loud nightlife around the various clubs, bars and restaurants which hugged the Temple topped zenith. Grand walkways were suspended to overlook the megalithic pyramid, operated by the Sith and Aristocracy as they engaged in expensive folly. They would be packed with Imperials, the suspended metal boardwalk filled with soldiers on shore leave, their uniforms freshly pressed and hair neatly trimmed for the variety of escort slaves who fawned over them. Aristocrats in their latest and fanciest nightwear walked arm in arm, making the necessary appearances within the Citadel's social scene. A pair of Sith, their red lightsabers visible even in the bright neon signage and club sponsored spotlights, dueled for a third who giggled and watched their phallic display for her affections.

Darth Solis watched it all from his private swoop as he angled it around the suspended walkways filled with foot traffic, eyes behind sleek shield glasses, tinted a beetle-like shade of jade. His hidden gaze slid to gauge the presence of the young girl sat in the only other seat of the convertible swoop, and a smug grin grew wider at her reaction to the grandiose Sith Citadel as few were able to see it. As much a bodyguard as a disguise, Astrid had caught his attention at Tanglehold’s Unification Day celebration, hand selected her and their third for this visit to Ziost and its governor.

Knighted in the Cult of Truth, and given the name ‘Lucellum', the Governor of Ziost; or “Young Guv” as he was known by the locals, was more an Aristocratic heir than a Sith Knight. He hadn’t earned his position, not in the traditional sense, Lucellum took over the governorship after his father- the former Keeper of the Citadel- had apparently committed suicide by jumping off it. Despite his young age, and the rumor that he had thrown his father off, Ziost’s economy boomed in the year or so since Lucellum took control. Backed by slaves, spice, and some of the Empire’s best and most exclusive nightlife, the pyramid city had never shined brighter.

With all that brightness though, came attention. A week ago, holorecords of Young Guv defaming the Empress, and the sort of degrading acts he’d do after dethroning her were captured and leaked. The sort of acts one might find several Citadel levels lower, for the right price, but not the sort of treatment Her Radiance should ever experience. Darth Solis, as the Lord Inquisitor of the Cult of Truth, was all too willing to deliver their response to Lucellum personally. Luckily, the machine that was Ziost's economy wouldn't slow from his loss at this point.

Solis' eyes looked from the younger Sith as flames suddenly shot from the side of the megalithic temple ahead of them, each spout of flame framing the fiery name of the Citadel's hottest club; MELTDOWN. Owned by Lucellum himself, and where the Knight had been since Her Sublimity entered orbit above Ziost three days ago. A line of speeders, swoops and bikes stretched all the way down the side of Citadel from the club’s landing platform to a distant pyramid edge; a queue Solis knew would last until the club closed. He completely ignored the queue as his sleek, lustrous black swoop angled in swiftly to cut off the next in line before they could shift to land.

Solis gracefully lifted himself from his seat, and fixed the three-quarter rolled sleeves of his lavish silken tunic. It and the matching black pants of his outfit were blown by repulsor gusts from the other swoop which he had just cut off, but didn’t react as it nearly missed and realigned itself, the driver cursing loudly as the queue continued and pushed him out from it altogether. He walked to Astrid’s side of the door-less convertible, all four lightsabers clinking merrily from where they hanged at his right hip. Darth Solis held a pale hand out to the epicanthix woman to help her step from the swoop with a winning smile, and admired the garment his personal designer had sent for her.

“Exquisite, my dear.” The zelosian said, his tone delighted. The Sith gestured with a nod of his head towards the grand, holo decorated foyer which lead into the actual club, where the third member of their party should already be within and waiting for the cavalry.

“Ready for some fun?”

[tenkalus]

Astrid was making sure she had a vice grip on the edge of the open-doored swoop as they zoomed around the ziggurat, so she didn’t fall out. She was absolutely positive she was making a fool of herself with the gawking at the scenery. She’d been on barely a handful of planets in her lifespan thus far, and the majority of those she’d been to had not been a pleasant experience, as she’d been a slave at the time.

But she wasn’t a slave any longer. Now, she was seated beside the venerable Darth Solis, in his stupidly expensive ride, while wearing a stupidly expensive outfit made custom from his stupid tailor. Who was, admittedly, probably not stupid at all for holding such a lucrative contract with someone as esteemed as a Darth. But the level of money he was paid was probably pretty stupid…. Even if Astrid adored her new outfit….

She’d been gifted with a sleeveless half dress made from the purest shimmersilk ever. Also the only shimmersilk she’d ever touched, so it was easily the best in the galaxy. The dress covered from collar to calf, but tapered off at the thigh and became a regal kind of half cape in the back.The material was colored with a some sort of pearlescent veneer that made the silk shine dark green, purple, black or red depending on the light that hit its surface. Astrid had elected to wear an equally sleeveless skin tight black body glove to mask the musculature of her legs, and allowed her to keep her virtue intact. The glove extended her garb to just below her jawline and tucked into the gorgeous black knee-high, flat-heeled combat boots the tailor had produced. The soles of which added an additional 2 inches to Astrid’s already impressively long frame.

Combat boots! In a dressy ensemble that didn’t look trashy or out of place!

Rounding off the getup, Astrid had been given a crimson silk choker with a bronzed emblem for the Cult of Strife, and a pair of ornate black bracers accented in gold bands. The bracers covered wrist to elbow. So maybe the tailor wasn’t so stupid after all… he’d crafted a beautiful ensemble that played exactly to Astrid’s personal tastes. Pretty, but breathable. Practical. Arms and legs were free to punch and kick if needed. The bracers though, they had been a gift from Master Keelen. She’d had to call on all of her militant discipline to keep from crying in glee at receiving a present from her Master. Even if it wasn’t really a present. The bracers might have been pretty to look at but they were actually quite strong and practical for her fighting style. They fit the musculature of her forearm as if they’d been molded exactly for her arms. She’d wager, they could take some serious punishment and still hold too. Though she’d never test that theory.

They were so pretty…

Dread had hit her at looking herself over in the mirror before Solis had retrieved her. What if it was just a rental? What if she ruined it? She didn’t make spit for credits as a mere apprentice. Worse yet, what if Darth Solis asked her- nay… commanded her, to return it when their business was done? Hell, she’d spent the first ten minutes en route to their destination, humming placidly and petting her half cape to feel the smoothest silk EVER. And then had switched to stretching a section of the dress between her hands and tilting it back and forth in random lights, humming in time to each move of her shifting.

It might have seemed unprofessional of her, but it wasn’t something she could really help. Astrid Blackspyre had been robbed of a childhood. She’d never had a chance to just be a girl in a society that wasn’t trying to kill her. Her earliest years were filled of fond memories of her adoring father, but from eight years old on, she’d been in a fight for her life. First through slavers, then on to the Sith. Now she was a soldier and if her own people weren’t trying to kill her, enemies of her own people were. The only person she could trust was Keelen. So know what? Screw it. The high and mighty Darth Solis could frakkin deal with her seemingly dimwitted nature for a few minutes before work started. She’d never considered herself good looking or sexy by any stretch. Of course, the number of propositions she’d gotten from the opposite sex told a different story, but it was never something Astrid actively sought.

Now?

Now she just felt pretty. And she felt good about it. She was absolutely positive that Darth Solis was up to something. He didn’t know her from anyone and yet here she was at his request. The guy was the Lord Inquisitor for shaks sake. Keelen was the kind of man who could bring a regime to its knees with his tactical mind and military power. Solis was the kind of man who would pull strings from afar to topple that same regime, and make it look like they’d done it themselves naturally. That is, if rumor was any indicator. She honestly didn’t know the man outside of the few words they had exchanged on the ride over or looking at him at that one party she desperately tried to forget.

Her thoughts were interrupted by fire boiling out of the superstructure and highlighting the name of the club they were approaching.

Without thinking, Astrid burst out laughing. A deep chuckle it was, eyes half closing in mirth as she slapped her own thigh in recognition. “I get it!” she said through a snort, pointing at the name of the club, framed in light. “Haha… Meltdown! Because of the…” she blew her fingers apart to indicate an explosion but trailed off as she looked over at her companion who was staring straight ahead at the time. “....fire...”

She cleared her throat in embarrassment and turned back to the sights and decided to enjoy it in silence.

And then they were there. Solis was at her not-door before she could struggle out of the bucket seat restraining her, seriously, who had designed a swoop with no doors? Such an impractical design…- but she took his proffered hand and escaped the open prison. She noticed, getting out just then, that Darth Solis was wearing four lightsabers on his belt.

Really though? Four? Is he compensating for something? Is he so skilled that he can use all of them at once? Maybe he’s actually a junky swordsman like me and just needs backups if/when he loses one… I should ask - wait, no. Don’t ask a Darth if he sucks at swordsmanship...

It wasn’t until she was solidly on her feet and standing almost a full 3 inches above Solis himself, that she realized she might have inadvertently squeezed a bit too hard on the Darth’s hand.

Oh, shit! I hope I didn’t hurt him… he might just murderize me on the spot...

But instead of murdering her, he smiled and complimented her, eliciting a bit of a blush. “Oh… Well, thank you My loooorr…..Daaaaaarth? My Darth.” She verbally caught herself before she did something else stupid.

Double shit!! Is a Darth still referred to as Lord? He’s the Lord Inquisitor so it’s probably not unheard of… damnit why didn’t I ask Master Keelen earlier?! We need to work on my political etiquette…. If I live past the night…

She’d even put makeup on for this event. Her eyes were shrouded in a dark black shadow and she’d drawn on crimson cat eye lines from the corner of her peepers. It looked most decidedly Sith. At least she thought so.

“Ready for some fun?”

“Oh yes… Yes I could use some… fun.” She said, laughing slow and nervously and looking away as she followed her current superior onward.

And maybe a stiff kriffin drink….

[Dutch]

“Relax, Blackspyre. Follow my lead” Solis said softly as the hand which still held hers pulled the girl closer. She would be guided to wrap it around the small of his back, resting her hand against the hip opposite of her and the Darth’s assortment of lightsabers. His right would rise to rest on the young woman’s shoulder, a small assured grip given as she was tucked against him as any date would. The zelosian adjusted his gait to match her slightly taller, leggier prowl, the man unfazed by Astrid’s height. He actually encouraged it as he’d pull back on her shoulder, his elbow gently pressing for her posture to improve. He smiled winningly at the variety of Imperials who took note of the VIP, and leaned close to Astrid’s ear as if whispering something delightful.

“You’re quite lucky, to experience Ziost like this.” He began, and he was right. The best way onto the Citadel was through titles, credits, or enslavement. It would be an unfamiliar experience for any who hadn’t been to one of the Empire’s hub worlds, even less so for those who didn’t dabble where the wealthy played. Crowds of affluent teenagers- probably close to Astrid’s age- sang along off key to a holonet top chart hit which blared from Meltdown’s foyer, while literally an arm’s reach away a nobleman openly bought spice from a squinty eyed neimoidian. Solis and Astrid would pass a robed Sith, his back turned to them as an arm slid up it to grip his neck in an intimate embrace, their shady alcove doing little to hide the sound of mouths meeting. It was then that the Darth noticed his partner’s perfume, the scent gentle and sweet.

“Pay attention to everything. Who talks with who, what is being bought and sold, where the eyes and minds watch from... “ Solis continued with a subtle nod of his nose towards the kiffar Sith who had watched them from the crowd since landing. The watcher was dressed in a very sharp, classically Imperial cut suit, but in a rich green velvet. His mane was adorned with jade Eye of Truth ornaments, and facial tattoos a pair of thin lines rising from fully inked lips into liner around his green eyes, then back into his hairline. He turned his dreadlocked head to whisper into the comlink at his wrist as Solis and his date passed down into the club entrance's fiery descent.

Reds, oranges and yellows blossomed into a kaleidoscope of molten color as they meandered with the fresh crowd arriving, the packed entryway hellishly delightful. Elated energies were as intoxicating as the variety of sumptuous club goers coming and going; many of the women were dressed similar to Astrid, clearly the current style, but their garments and quality were pale comparisons to her opulent garb. Music could be heard, a deep throbbing pulse of bass and wailing of exotic instruments, perfect cover for him to whisper to the epicanthix again.

“And they will always be watching, my dear. What you wear might seem a mere favored gift, but if you want to play this game, you’ll need the right pieces. That’s a start.” The stairway descent into Meltdown steadily became darker, but the music louder, as much felt as heard now. Then suddenly the wall before the crowd slid to the side, and Meltdown opened to them The world became omnipresent sonance and dazzling lights, the cheering crowd of arrivals nearly drowned out from it all and seamlessly melded into the already raging club.

[tenkalus]

“Trust absolutely nothing that Darth Solis tells you. He did not become the Lord Inquisitor for nothing. Assume everything he says is a trap. Pay attention to inflection and notice the things he isn’t saying. Read the message between the lines. You must be smart about this.” Lord Keelen had warned before she’d left. Was he actually worried about her?

“I don’t like that he’s summoned you without me being present. You must be mindful of all of your surroundings. Listen, learn. But never trust what is being said.” he’d directed as he paced Astrid’s quarters while she changed in the other room. “If anything feels wrong, you will contact me immediately.”

So, to recap. Watch everything and listen to everything being done or said at all times in a room filled with bright flashing lights and noise from every direction….

Easy….ish.

But Astrid followed up with a small grin at the memory of a few hours prior, playing the grin off as something she’d seen as they walked by.

Yes, Master. I will, she thought to herself.

There was always a part of Astrid that was every bit of a 19 year old girl. But with her master’s help, Astrid knew that. And now, again with the instruction and training from Lord Keelen, Astrid Blackspyre knew how to use that fact to her advantage. She knew all of her own tells, and she knew what was convincing behavior and what wasn’t.

Had she been anyone else's student, Astrid would have been lost in the sights and sounds of vice and sin in the Meltdown. But she wasn’t just anyone’s student. Her master was a Chiss. And attention to detail was his bread and butter. A trait that was being passed down into Astrid through his teachings. Keelen was a tactician, and he was showing Astrid how to be one as well.

Lucky for Astrid, her time as a slave had also taught her how to act how other people wanted or expected her to. So she fell into the part easily. It was indeed a game, as Darth Solis had mentioned. He just didn’t know how well Astrid knew how to play this particular game. It tested her on some levels, having to recall the lessons of her captivity in order to blend in. But she saw it now as a learning experience that her trauma’s had prepared her for.

Outwardly, Astrid would look every bit the culture shocked teen on the arm of one of the most prestigious men in the Empire, and easily one of the most recognizable. She kept her eyes wide and sweeping, taking in all she could and filing details away that might be important. They passed the spice deal and she shook her head in disgust. Then the Sith in the not-so-dim corner making out with some hussy or another. For that, Astrid made a show of pointedly looking away and chuckling nervously. She knew her nervous laugh, but Solis didn’t. This was a falsehood put on for his benefit. And the makeup she wore, would disguise the fact that she was actually not blushing.

The ride over had been fun enough. She’d gotten her exuberance out in the speeder. But per Keelen, now Astrid was on mission. This was a battle of sorts, and she was quickly proving herself to be the apprentice of a Chiss, in her social tactics and mannerisms.

She hadn’t wanted to touch Solis at all. Truthfully the man scared her on a subconscious level. He was a predator and this was his hunting ground. But she also respected strength when she saw it. And so she’d leaned into him, the way a proper date would. Her eyes took in all of the things he indicated, and then more.

Astrid didn’t need to be told that people were watching them. And she didn’t need to Force to know either. She was used to having eyes on her. Either judging her as a muscled freak of a woman, or at the very least, a slave. It always felt as if someone were standing right behind her, when she was being watched. She’d come to recognize the sensation and more often than not, she was rewarded in the knowledge that she was correct.

“Yes, my lord..” she began dutifully, putting that teenage tone to her voice that lended to naivete that no longer lived within her, “What exactly are we going to do here?”

They began to descend into Meltdown and Astrid caught those glimpses of envy as other women her age and older, saw her garb and turned their noses up at her. Oh this was a game alright. And some of the players didn’t even know they were part of it.

“You sure don’t spare expense on looks. That’s for sure. Is money so important here?” She asked lightly, eyes peering over at her “date”.

“On Panatha, we didn’t have a lot of money, but everyone respected strength, not cash so much.”

[Dutch]

“In the upper echelons, it all matters.” Solis replied, a knowing look hidden by his visor turned to meet her doe-shade gaze, the pitch of her voice now lilted with feigned innocence. His smirk remained as he guided Astrid within Meltdown’s pulsing interior, the Darth’s presence billowing into the club further with each step. It would be foolish to try and hide his identity anywhere the Cult of Truth operated, which left his usual and favorite approach of owning the room. With each inhale Solis could taste the buffet of offered emotion, the amount of ecstacy and vice near intoxicating enough to be lost in. Instead, the zelosian sipped of it as any cocktail, and let his presence bloom and weave slowly, unabashedly with every exhale to wash over those nearby.

Many who were Force sensitive turned their heads as the sensation hit, and the Darth was suddenly aware of the sheer amount of true Sith within. He steered Astrid deeper, easily weaving through the crowd as those wise enough shifted out of the way. Soon they found themselves by a ring of tables which encircled the raised dance floor set directly in the middle of Meltdown. Solis immediately noted the occupants at the nearest table, a pair of eerie arkanians; obviously twins by near identical features, both the male and the female were dressed suggestively in sheer clothing as white as their snowy hair. The woman’s styled up as elegantly as any aristocrat within, and the male's in a military style cut. Both had their long, claw-like nails painted a shining green color, and their make-up the same shade which stained their lips into the Eye of Truth. They slid ghostly from standing near the table to smile and bow before their Darth. In uncanny unison they gestured to where they were, and moved to meld into the crowd- but not before the female graced Astrid’s chin with a single claw and an alluring smile.

Once settled in, Solis let his gaze wander the interior to see what may have differed from his spies’ initial sweep, but as far as he could tell this was just another weekend. The club itself was put together in a high-reaching, multi-tiered cylinder with a single winding path rising higher in a non-subtle metaphor. It started as the base of the raised dance floor at the very center, suspended by a series of polished cables which captured every gleam of holographic light. Every wall appeared to be some sort of screen or hologram, sinful scenes of decadence and jubilation on display across each of the several levels. This was clearly the least exclusive level, and the most crowded with bodies which danced upon the center stage, drank glowing libations around the tables and bars under it, and attempted loud, clumsy conversation easily lost in Meltdown’s epic and catchy music.

From behind his visor Solis looked higher as he touched Astrid’s forearm for her attention to follow, his eyes tracing the swirl of the pathway which lead to the more exclusive, less crowded tiers above them. He kept the girl close, equal parts for her safety and maintaining their cover as mere guests.

“There’s a reason I reached outside my Cult for this.” Darth Solis began, but paused to smile and wave back at a clearly strung out aristocrat who had recognized him, their hand a blur of inebriated delight in Meltdown’s low, pulsing light. He leaned back to whisper into Astrid’s ear, and let his presence fold over hers to dampen their conversation further.

“At the very top level of Meltdown, is its owner; Lucellum. One of my junior knights, and Ziost’s current Imperial governor. ‘Young Gov’ as they know him here- original, isn’t it?” He detailed, his eyes still scanning the crowd from behind his tinted visor for those which watched back. There were many, mostly in quick glances or brushes of their presence against his.

“I need to have a chat with him. Stay where I can see you, play the part of the soliciting acolyte, and follow my lead. Despite the well-placed warnings of your Master, you must trust me absolutely.” Solis continued with a slight nudge of his nose towards a well built, green skinned zabrak who stared at them quite blatantly before disappearing into the throng of guests. “Be sure not eat, drink, nor partake in anything offered. Assume everyone wants you cold until we leave Ziost.”

The Darth paused at that, and placed a hand on the table to guide him back to a standing position, his smile winning and wide as he beamed at the epicanthix.

“Except myself, of course. Wouldn’t want Lord Keelen coming for my neck, after all. Welcome to the Great Game, Astrid. Now let’s not be rude guests. Go get us some drinks.”

[tenkalus]

So that’s what this was. Astrid had had been folded into one of the immeasurable layers of the Game. It was a lifelong struggle of power gains and intrigue. She was familiar with the concept, though she’d never been involved before.

And of course Solis would say to trust him explicitly, that sounded exactly like the kind of person she couldn’t trust. He went outside of his own Cult for assistance, because apparently he couldn’t control people in his own. But Astrid wasn’t foolish enough to delude herself that she was here by chance. She knew herself and she knew her own image. One of the greater strengths she possessed was far from physical in nature. Astrid knew how she appeared to others and even in a general sense, that amount of self awareness was a dangerous weapon to have.

She knew Solis knew she was faking. But was it an act of an act? Had she already been playing the Great Game and not been aware of it? There were so many layers to the unseen enemy that it was hard to tell what was truth and what was just another layer of lies. So far, the tally was pretty even, and she ran through it in her head as her Master had taught her.

One: Solis had gone outside of his usual structure to enlist assistance regarding someone within his Cult. That meant either he wanted a scapegoat if/when things went pear-shaped, or he didn’t trust people within his own organization. Or further, he didn’t have enough muscle in his own Cult to get the job done. In any scenario, Astrid was being placed between Solis and either political or physical danger.

To the first, Astrid would hardly be a good scapegoat for Solis’ own cult, as she herself was not technically a member of the Cult of Strife. As an Acolyte, she carried no political power, or physical rank in the military at all. In fact, the only reason she’d been allowed to wear her favorite Strife choker was because she was currently representing the relationship between herself and Lord Invictus. Namely, that she was his “property”. It was a warning to those who would do her harm. The message would be clear, mess with Astrid and deal with him. As for the trust, Solis probably saw Astrid as a young and impressionable woman from a backwater planet who would be dazzled by the lights and sounds of the big city. He didn’t have to trust her, because she was a fish out of water in a place like the Meltdown, and Ziost in general. She was muscle he could direct. Trust wasn’t a necessary factor, lest she turn on him.

But then, it would be well known to the Lord Inquisitor that young Astrid Blackspyre was not ambitious enough to take down a Darth. She had nothing in the galaxy outside of her Master, and wanted nothing more than to please him and see his own ascension. She was a tool in that way. She had no stake in the politics outside of elevating Lord Invictus, and climbing just high enough herself to make a difference.

Two: Astrid had been the faithful rigid Acolyte. She moved how she was supposed to move, she spoke like she was supposed to speak. She was given orders and she’d followed them. The part that Solis probably didn’t know, was that she was taking two sets of orders. And he would only be able to guess at one of them.

Yes, Keelen had warned her about him. He’d wanted his apprentice prepared for anything. But fortunately for Astrid, that didn’t stop at mental prepping and mere words.

It did appear at that point that yes, Astrid was already playing the game. She was playing Solis in ways he might not expect from her. The lights and sounds had indeed bewildered her to a degree. But then, she had an extra set of eyes and ears to see everything around her. In the absence of skill, you brought experience. This was indeed a game, but while it might have appeared Astrid Blackspyre was playing her very first hand of Sabbac with the worst bluffing face ever, she’d always been more a fan of the statistical probabilities game of Pazaak. In Pazaak, you stacked your deck to cover multiple outcomes. And so she had done here with Keelen’s blessing.

Astrid burst into peals of laughter at hearing what Lucellum had been calling himself. “Young g… hahahaha, he doesn’t really call himself-.” She cut herself off at seeing Solis’ face. “Oh shit, your serious. Wow. That’s… well. That’s kind of special. Good for him.” She said soberly

Young Gov. She snorted at the name. Sounds more like young-douchebag to me. Wouldn’t mind punching him in the face till he developed a sense for naming conventions....

But she wasn’t here to do that. At least, she thought she wasn’t.

“With all due respect, Darth Solis, I’ve assumed everyone wanted me cold since I was ten. There have been a few attempts already, but as yet, no one has been overly successful in doing more than giving me a slight chill before I introduced them to the inferno.” She said with a pretty smile.

That lingered for less of a moment than she would have liked. The Darth seemed to plow right through it, not hearing the acolyte speak.

“Now let’s not be rude guests. Go get us some drinks.”

The humor died from Astrid’s soul immediately. Outwardly, she continued grinning like she hadn’t just been crushed.

Oh shak… not the drinks again! But why are we getting drinks we aren’t allowed to drink? And why am I supposed to know what to get him?! AND WHY AM I THE ONE THAT HAS TO GET THEM?!

Reality check Astrid. He’s a Darth. You’re not. Duh.

“Right away, Darth Solis.” She responded without missing a beat.

She continued smiling as she got up and walked off toward the bar. As she weaved in and out of the crowd, bumping nary a shoulder on her way, that smile stayed plastered on her lips even though her teeth were working behind them. She was swearing heavily under her breath in Epicant while letting her eyes flick around to take in as much as she could.

<<“Neck’ll be fine, ya creepy veined dickhead. Anything happens to me, and Keelen won’t touch your neck… He’d be coming for your chlorophyll filled ass, you son of a douche-plant. Squeeze your skinny little body till you sprouted petals flower boy. Go get us drinks Astriddddd… ”>>, she said in her own tongue, offering a high-pitched posh imitation of Solis’s tone when he was well outside of earshot. <<”I’ll get ya a drink alright, fill it with frakkin garden hormones so you can grow some frakkin muscle on your frakkin little… stupid…. Self…. Jerk.”>>

Then she glanced sideways and saw the equally creepy Arkanian’s from a few minutes before. The female who’d felt she’d had the right to touch Astrid’s face waved casually and winked. Astrid bore a wider grin and squeezed her eyes shut to restrain the violence revving up. “Hiiiiiii.” She offered in basic a few bodies away, then murmured back in Epicant, <<”Ha-haaaaaa, youuuuuu touch me again an’-I’ll-break-you-in-half-bitch…>> Yes! Nice to see youuuu!”

Ugh. This is bullshit! I’ve killed a Sith Knight for being stupid. Keelen has wasted a Lord for the same. This game is so overbearing. We don’t even know the players, well maybe Solis does, but he’s not exactly forthcoming right now… I guess I should at least check in with Keelen, he’ll be waiting.

Before she did though, Astrid found herself at the bar and wrapping her knuckles against the surface for the attention of the bar back. “Two drinks p-” She’d almost said please. Whew, close one. Someone with a Darth didn’t ask for drinks. They demanded them. “Two drinks.” She corrected.

The man looked at her and waited. When she offered nothing else, he shrugged and continued for her. “Okay. What’ll it be?”

She smiled sweetly again, “Something dark, red, and sweet.”

“Well I have an Onderonian red from Chateaux Tophe, twenty years old and courtesy of Duke Ellias Troubert. Perhaps that will suit you?”


Astrid propped her elbows up on the bar and leaned in, her eyes glazing slightly and she wiggled her long index finger suggestively for the man to come closer before whispering to him. “Hey, stud. Do I look like I know where Chateaux Toffy is? Just do me a favor and POUR THE GODDAM DRINKS.” She finished with a hiss between her teeth, still smiling with her eyes. “Mmkay? Thanks darling.”

She turned her back on the man and glanced through the crowd to find Solis again. He was facing away, chatting with someone. Good. She reached into her pocket and pulled out her comlink, then swung back to the bar. “Master, it’s Astrid. Just checking in, everything’s fine so far. Just a little irrita-”

Astrid was very fortunate that fate had gifted with good perception. A drunkard bumped up the bar and tripped over themselves, and as they tried to catch themselves from hitting the floor, their drink went sailing straight out of its container and right toward Astrid’s shimmersilk attire.


Oh, HELL no.

She pushed herself off the bar with whipcord reflexes and stepped fluidly out of the way, tensing slightly as she did, and instead of hitting her, the liquid splashed into the bar patron next to her. Said patron remained stunned for a moment, looking down at their own attire now stained through with liquor, before they stepped in front of Astrid and began to throttle the drunkard. Astrid simply brushed herself off and made sure not a drop made it on her fancy duds before stepping around the commotion and resetting herself a few seats down. She turned and noticed that Solis was now looking her way, probably making sure she wasn’t involved. This time it actually wasn’t her fault, and she waved happily, now grateful once again at having such a rich benefactor who could afford such nice clothes.

Maybe he wasn’t such a douchey, creepy, flower man after all.

Then she saw the grin from across the room and she turned her back again.

Yyyyyyup. Still creepy as hell.

There was so much unsaid in that smile of his. She couldn’t tell if she was amusement, prey, or both.

Life at the Meltdown continued as if nothing had ever happened. People went back to their drinks, or spice, or corner sex (though admittedly that probably hadn’t stopped in the first place), and the music droned on. Astrid went back to her comlink and continued. “Sorry bout that. Had a nuisance. Anyway, I -sniff- -sniff-...”

What is that smell? Like burnt plastic?

Astrid looked down and saw the tiny smoke trail rising from the comlink in her hand. Further inspection found that in the commotion, she might have gripped just a little too hard, and had slightly crushed the casing. Which of course in turn compressed the components in the com and squished them into non-functionality.

Mmmmmhm. Keelen’s gonna murderize me. Gotta work on that strength thing. I didn’t think I squeezed that hard…

“Your drinks Ma’am.” Came the voice in front of her.

“Hm? What dri- oh. Nevermind. Thanks guy. Give Duke whats-his-face from the fancy Toffy house my regards.” She offered back, tilting the glasses in salute.

The man scowled and corrected, “Tophe” with a heavy tongue.

Astrid shrugged and began walking back to Solis with drinks in hand, “Yeah, that. Whatever.”

She hadn’t actually seen the man pour the liquid into the glasses she was holding and so she held true to Darth Solis’ warning not to consume anything offered. These were probably just for show anyway. Another layer of lie added to the growing pile.

What a game this was turning out to be.

[Dutch]

“Right away, Darth Solis.”

The Sith smiled at Astrid’s submissive response, a knowing grin still spread across his face as she followed his lead. While she strutted away with an amusing air of indignancy, his eyes would drift about the crowd unseen thanks to his reflective visor. The young woman was followed by the expected glances from would-be suitors (had she not arrived with a Darth), but none seemed to possess any gall nor ill will. Until once more the green-skinned Zabrak who was watching them earlier was spotted, now situated to lean upon the chromed railing which encircled each level above them, directly above the bar Astrid had arrived at, his purple eyes fixing all attention on her. The Zelosian’s own eyes narrowed, and his presence billowed higher to loom in the air overhead.

In eerie serendipity, the song switched as Solis would become distracted by a sudden hand which ran down his arm for attention, and the Darth turned from checking on Astrid to find himself face to face with Astrid. He fought the urge to do a double-take, and instead took in the new presence which pressed familiarly closer to him. A presence which had somehow slid under his notice with frightening ease. While her height, build, and damn near every other feature the Epicanthix possessed was all there; this Astrid was dressed quite differently. Her ensemble barely anything more than a few tactfully placed silvery silk triangles bound together at the points by thin silver chains, and instead of the choker hung a gleaming necklace of the same chain with the silver mask of Mysteries dangling upon her bared chest. She smiled coyly while sliding her form up against Solis’, touch light as air, and crisp, acerbic scent filling his senses almost overwhelmingly.

The faux Astrid’s ambiance in the Force felt different, now that he could taste of it clearer with proximity, an unfamiliar twist, like some exotic, yet undeniably risky flora muddled into a fine cocktail. The Darth noticed the way it wormed into his own aphotic aura, the thin strands weaving expertly to bind itself and weave with Solis’ thoughts. He didn’t react, except for the way the corners of his lips turned to spread his smile wider in greeting, despite the obvious poke at all sorts of the Sith’s weaknesses; A classic Sith power-play move.

“Well, hello there miss…?” Solis asked softly as a hand reached for the pendant rested upon her bared chest to examine it. Absolutely the same pure grade of silver Mysteries was known to favor, he wondered if Darth Keres’ knew of this particular talent vying for his attention. The Astrid clone turned chocolate brown iris’ down demurely, and bit her lip as she slid an arm around the Zelosian’s abdomen to rest at the small of his back.

“You may call me what you please, Lord Inquisitor…” The silvery woman crooned in Astrid’s voice, though far more perfected in her allure than his borrowed apprentice. Her free hand would slide up Solis’ ribs and chest to shift open his tunic, baring his scarred collarbone further before she placed Astrid’s lips upon it briefly. Those doe-shaded eyes now peered up at the Darth wantonly, gleaming with something close to longing, yet instead of raising desire triggered warning bells in the back of his mind. A dangerous creature, one who clearly knew the Game.

“Young Guv sent me... to do with as you please…” She whispered with a firmer press of her body against his as perfect teeth found the lobe of Solis’ ear. “... Take me into darkness… break these chains…” She breathed as Solis found a finger of his hooked around one of the chains at her hips, realizing the ethereal silks of her presence had moved his hand… “Sink your teeth into me… pull skin from flesh… devour my essence… use it… use me… you only need to leave… leave with me… leave with me NOW”

Her words, sensuous at first suddenly blared like a hellish foghorn within the Force, and the thin white spider-silks of her presence suddenly bloomed into an infinite surging tide. Dark-brown eyes were now a searing golden hue, and the fake Astrid’s visage appeared harsher, more angular. But it didn’t last, the Darth’s smile however, did. It would spread toothier despite the stunning attempt to seize his mind, and her tenacious telepathic strands were flooded by the deluge of Solis’ sinister spirit which came crashing down from above. It splashed out into a pair of vitrified tendrils to twist and snare tightly around the necks belonging to her and the Zabrak who should’ve paid more attention. Wicked was the expression upon the Zelosian’s face, triumphant as the predatory seductress began to purple.

“You’ll want to walk away, witch, unless you should wish to share your friend’s fate.” Solis said simply, the clenched fist which now held their throats gripped tighter, and the black, pulsing veins visibly webbed across his hand and fingers throbbed with vigor. That wrist would twist suddenly, and while he needn’t look, Solis could tell by the look in the prophetess’ eyes that her partner’s neck moved in a most unnatural way. As suddenly as it had seized them, the Darth’s grip relented and the girl fell to her knees before him, shuddering while gasping for life.

“Inform Inquisitor Lucellum I'm coming for him. Leave. Now.” He commanded, head held high, unbroken, and the silvery temptress scuttled into the crowd on all fours away as fast as they could carry her. The Zelosian turned back to check on Astrid, seemingly right as she looked his way- that wicked power-tripped smile still plastered across his lips with villainous intent. She immediately looked away, and Solis had to laugh at the poor rookie. The Zabrak who had but moments ago pressed his presence towards Astrid now dangled quite dead over the railing above her, and the young woman who gazed at her sacrificial commlink quizzically, clearly had no clue how close maleficence had come. While Solis’ positioning shifted to better display ease, he kept a watchful mind around Astrid, who soon returned with their drinks.

“Such a lively atmosphere, don’t you think?” The Darth asked with a gleeful grin and a clink of his glass against hers. He mimed the motion to take a sampling sip, though the wine would not pass his lips. Even so his tongue would play over the roof of his mouth, as if exploring the layered cardinal flavors. His head bobbed as if in appreciation, and Solis returned to a grin as he turned his attention to the elevated dance floor, and the ascending stairs to the rest of the club.

“Our situation has escalated, my dear.” Darth Solis said as he set down his glass, and his pale palm raised in an offer to take her hand. “Which means, it is time for us to escalate.” He added with a turn of his nose upwards to the highest level.