What's Past is Prologue

[Salem Ave]

“Lord Protector, a boat is approaching the western shore.”

Salem didn’t turn away from the window that permitted him a view of the reefs surrounding the Reef Fortress of Hapes. “Thank you, Major. Have the Chume’doro bring our guest inside.”

The sound of Major Lecavalier’s polished boots clicking against the floor retreated into the distance. Soon, the Major would descend to the cove where boats approaching the fortress could be anchored. Travelling by water did not always suit visitors to the isolated island, but the geography of the Reef Fortress was such that no other means of accessing the stronghold was possible.

Silence held in the hall for a while, then another set of footsteps sounded behind the Lord Protector, softer this time.

“Your guest has arrived.”

[Razielle Alastor]

"I know.." It was why she had come. The presence drawing closer had left an impression. "I could feel her.."

There was no sign of turmoil in the Queen Regent, no lasting effects from her first encounter with their visitor. Whatever paranoia had been rippling like aftershocks through her mind from their battle had been burned away, but not so much that it was forgotten. She was not hesitant to encounter the woman again, no nerves plagued her at all. In fact, she had wanted to meet with her again, almost from the first. Sensing that she had to.

Her steps stopped just behind the Lord Protector.

She was not afraid, she knew that he would protect her, no matter what, but she did not want him to have to. The only way forward was through, and that meant meeting with her again.

Baska.

[Baska Tankreyd]

Baska had known she was bound to see Salem and his protegee again, although the invitation to meet with them in the Cluster had occurred earlier than she had expected. Yet she had accepted the invitation. Although some may have replied as a way to pay respect and be at the power couple of the Consortium's beck and call, as they happened to be, the Sith Master was on Hapan soil from her own choice. After all, when she wished to disappear into oblivion in most mortals' minds, she had proven to do exactly as such.

She had been impressed by Lady Razielle's proficiency. Of course the Sith had more ground to grow, more than either Salem or herself, but Baska recognized value where she saw it, and she didn't think that Salem would have spent so much energy into training someone who had little value, even with a wonderful political position. Baska understood the rules of politics, but had most often been an outsider in her life, and she was fine with that. Operating from shadows, any shadows of her choosing, was something she tremendously cherished.

She briefly remembered feeling the life growing inside the other woman. It brought a pang of sorrow to the blonde Master, but she quenched it at once, burying it in the deepest confines of her soul.

The trip by sea to the fortress had been a good opportunity to reflect on the last encounter and what may come in the future. Upon arrival to shore, she disembarked and followed the welcome committee. To anyone seeing, Baska (https://i.pinimg.com/originals/8e/bc/db/8ebcdb654475fca6ef04800272590b33.jpg)looked as beautiful and gracious as most Hapan ladies.

She sensed her fellow Sith's presence in the Force, dark vicious beacons pulsing beneath the ancient stones of the fortress.

[Salem Ave]

Lacking the gilded splendor of the Fountain Palace, the Reef Fortress was nevertheless Hapan in decoration, with huge ornamental windows overlooking the sea, candelabra hanging from the ceiling, and artwork, including paintings and statues, lining the walls. An impregnable tower stood over all else, as a refuge for the Chume, but it was to the central hall that Baska was lead. At Major Lecavalier’s instruction, the Chume’doro and Chume’nor had vacated the hall, leaving behind only Salem and Razielle. When the royal guard reached the corridor outside of the main hall, Lecavalier drew open the doors, gesturing silently for the regent and Lord Protector’s guest to step inside. This was not the court, so there would be no announcement of her arrival with titles and honours.

The heads of House Alastor stood side by side as Baska entered. Salem said nothing, deferring in his silence to Razielle.

[Razielle Alastor]

The last time Baska had seen her she had been on her knees in the dirt, her identity concealed behind a mask. That was not the case this time, the Queen Regent was quite recovered, an image of glowing health, in fact. She wore no crown, though the Hapan blue and gold gown she had chosen was all the inference of her station that was required, but also not the point. If the goal was to amass a gathering of people to bow and scrape before them, they had already succeeded in that marvelously well. That was not at all what she sought from this encounter.

Baska had earned a place of respect in Razielle's eyes already, as a warrior who had defeated her. It would be foolish to not use that defeat, turn it into a challenge. Take something that had made her weak, and turn it into a strength. But she was not the one to be convinced.

"Hello Baska." Razielle smiled, genuinely pleased that the woman had chosen to join them today. While it was hardly a fait accompli, it allowed for potential. "Thank you for coming."

[Baska Tankreyd]

Baska entered the room, when invited to. She took in the settings and how it was a private meeting, as she had intuited from the invitation. When the doors closed behind her, she moved forward, eyes moving from Razielle to Salem and back to the Hapan lady. She would have observed any required protocol in a public settings, or have relied on Sith persoona as in the past, if needed. She took the lead from the brunette for how to address them. She nodded to both of them, and stood a couple of meters away from them.

"Razielle, Salem. Thank you for the invitation," she said with the hint of a smile, genuinely curious about what this moment would bring to the table.

She couldn't help feeling the little life growing inside Razielle, its flicker more potent than the last time they had met. It was why she had halted her relentless attack upon Salem's protegee. Very few things were sacred to Baska, but it was one of them. Her smile turned warmer. "I sense your little one is growing well and strong."

[Salem Ave]

Although she was dressed for the royal court, there was no curtsey or bow from Baska. Each of them wore costumes, but had no need to play the parts that they denoted.

“Our daughter will be pleased to have a brother or sister,” Salem said, lifting one almost possessive hand to rest at the small of Razielle’s back.

“Rattatak was… enlightening, for all of us. I hoped that you might spend some time with us, here in the Cluster, to see what else we might learn from one another.”

[Razielle Alastor]

At the mention of their child, Razielle's hand inexorably moved to her stomach. The gesture might have been construed as defensive, though it was not. The more time had gone by, and the more thought she had devoted to the events on Rattatak, Razielle had already come to the conclusion on her own. The fact that she was with child had been partly responsible for the outcome of that day. She knew without having it clarified further, Baska meant the child at least, no harm. Her gesture was possessory. While Beatrix would always be their firstborn, in the eyes of the galaxy she belonged to Tristan Alastor. This one.. this one was theirs.

The welcoming expression on Razielle's face turned into a bit of a twisted smile. "I knew that had been it.."

Salem's presence beside her, his touch at her back, sent a current of energy through Razielle that both she and their child drew strength from. Strength and will she had in supply. It was knowledge that she was after now.

She watched Baska, hoping that she would decide to remain with them for a while. Razielle was far from ready to give her the level of trust that she had in her sister Creas, but most willing to meet her halfway, in whatever Baska chose.

[Baska Tankreyd]

Baska had already understood the bond between Salem and Razielle was strong, but when no pretense was at play, it was even fiercer. Such bonds were a rarity. The blonde took no offense at their body language. A child had to learn hard lessons eventually but they also had to be protected until thye was in any capacity to fend for themselves.

She gave a slight nod when Razielle expressed the connection she had established between Baska's mercy and the pregnancy. It was an eerie feeling to the blonde, who most often felt deep sadness at the mention of pregnancy, or in the presence of young children, for always tore open her never healing scar. In a weird way, that only the Force might eventually explain, she did feel protective of their child as well. Obviously the feeling was removed from the immediacy of a parent's experience, but Baska nevertheless recognize the flicker of feeling in her soul.

She returned her attention to Salem, considering her options. She didn't mean to be rude, but at the same time, she wasn't the kind to trust easily. She could leave her research for a few days, especially since she didn't have any active artifact hunt right then and now. "I would be honored to stay for a few days... for now." She said in earnest, for she was fairly certain they were all still testing the dark waters. Obviously Salem had long history with both of them in a drastically different way, but the configuration was still in progress, at lack of better words.

[Salem Ave]

“A few days will suffice.”

Mindful of, and in some ways grateful for, Baska’s unwillingness to linger too long within the Consortium, Salem knew there was little sense in delaying matters any longer.

“Do you need rest, or can we begin immediately?”

[Baska Tankreyd]

Baska kept it to herself, having learned over the years to keep cards to herself more often than not, but she was relieved that her answer was found satisfying. She didn't picture herself staying too long for multiple reasons. Time would tell how the situation would unfold, but she trusted in the Darkness that her presence in the Consortium at the moment was where she should be. Ironically, letting a fraction of her guard down, as a token of good grace and cooperation, required almost more conscious choice than her instinct to keep everything closed off from others.

"We may begin," she replied to Salem's inquiry, appreciating the offer to rest. She had had plenty of time on the boat to rest and ready herself for the visit.

[Razielle Alastor]

Having secured Baska's agreement to remain, for a while at least, Razielle nodded once graciously. Had their request had been met with resistance, or denied outright, the advantage of time might have swayed things in their favor. But not having to waste that time would be more advantageous by far. That Baska also wanted to get started right away made Razielle smile all the more excitedly. "Excellent.."

Razielle had no sad, tragic past that haunted her, keeping her shackled to another time. No quests for resolution drove her to avenge anyone dear to her. She was remarkably unburdened with bullshit. She was simply not that kind of apprentice. What had always driven her was desire. Whatever she felt, she felt strongly. When she wanted something, she was relentless about it. Her slate was ready to be etched in whatever skills from Baska's Dark Side repertoire that the woman would share.

Jewel-bright eyes slid tellingly to the side, toward Salem. Razielle may have been ruling over the Consortium for some years, but her master ruled over her. It was for him to decide how she would progress.

[Salem Ave]

The hand still at the Queen Regent’s back urged her forward. Unseen, behind Razielle, something passed over Salem’s expression, hollowing and hardening his features.

“Assault her mind, as you did on Rattatak.”

Callidus extended a closed fist, the Force gathering around him with all the sudden darkness of a storm.

“But with greater force.”

[Baska Tankreyd]

Baska's expression remained unchanged even as Salem asked her to assault his mate's mind, worse than she had done on Rattatak. Maybe to some, it would seem as if the Sith Master hadn't heard but her hosts would know better. In the blink of an eye, thanks to hours spent meditating upon the encounter, she remembered how things had gone down during her first meeting with Anxia, how she had gained the upper ground in their duel, how promising the other Sith woman had proven to be. It was clay to be molded and Salem had already done artwork with Razielle's talents.

The statuesque blonde didn't need to touch or do anything physical to make the mental assault powerful, deeper than what she had done in the arena. She used the expectation, the hunt's wait for prey and predator. It might give time for Razielle to build up her defenses, and it was part of Baska's plans, causing shrilling pain in the other Sith's mind even with defenses put up was part of the process. It was when you felt ready and confident but were not strong enough, that you had to fall the hardest. It was how Sith could prevail.

At first, it was a whisper in Razielle's mind, like a nagging feeling that she couldn't trust herself. Baska could have directly used Salem's image to tear into Razielle's brain, but it would have been too easy, too blatant. She dug deeper, pouring pain and doubt into the brunette's soul, pulling at everything bit by bit, with acute fear poured into her as well, created from Baska's own bank of trauma.

Fear that the child Razielle was carrying would be born with defects, a disgrace for someone in her position, a tragedy for Salem and her, the proof that Razielle couldn't make this work, that she had failed. Baska insinuated her will as deep as possible in Razielle's mind, building a crumbling fortress, consumed by fear and decay, loss and despair, betrayal of the self, failure of being a good mother, a good mate.

Baska still stood as a statue, her power permeating the room as well, as she tore at everything she could from Razielle's mind. She was unleashing more hells, but more could still come.

[Razielle Alastor]

Whatever the woman thought she would find poking around in her mind this time, Anxia did hope to surprise her. There was no more preparing that she could do, she was as primed for this attack as she could be. This time she knew what to expect from Baska, knew the signs of how it would begin, and also of how she had been overtaken with it before - and to a much lesser degree than was about to be inflicted upon her. It perhaps should have troubled her, but instead the ghost of a smile remained in place on her lips.

Anxia's mind had practically been cracked open like an eggshell by this woman once before, and into she had poured all of her own pain, her own loss. An entire lifetime of all manner of toxic, malignant emotional wreckage. With one simple suggestion by Baska, Anxia had spent hours replaying every single way her life could spiral into a living hell, until she was rendered a paranoid, bleeding mess.

And it was fine.

Every fissure of doubt that had splintered through her mind, and every fearful hollow that had become filled with despair had been repaired. Much like a priceless broken object that had been filled in with gold to preserve and strengthen it, so had her mind been permeated with what made her the strongest. Cauterized in the conflagration that was her bond to her master, vitrified by the unabated reciprocal exaltation of it. It was not that Callidus had fixed her, it was that he reminded her that she was strong enough to fix herself, because he had already made her so. Because she was his, and he was hers, and that made everything else rather..insignificant. It was worth fighting for. It was worth suffering for, if that was what it took..

It began with a creeping feeling in her stomach. Something dark slithered within.. At first, Anxia thought it unconnected to whatever Baska would attempt to foist on her mind. That it was something related to her pregnancy. A complication.. Something was wrong. She should never have fought like that on Rattatak.. it had done something to their baby.. Her hand went right back to her stomach, and this time it was protective. Violet eyes narrowed, sensing this tactic and not at all appreciating it, but.. finding that she was able to differentiate between reality and Baska's rotation of torments.

[Baska Tankreyd]

Baska remembered the sensations of breaking into Anxia's mind. It had been a powerful experience for both of them. While the brunette still had progress to make to be on the same level as Callidus and herself, Baska had felt the high of potential and power already vibrating from the other woman. She had expected better resistance today and she wasn't disappointed, and she kept pushing harder both through frontal assault and more treacherous one, that still played upon myth and reality. She didn't do anything physical to the other Sith, all her preying and warmongering solely upon Razielle's soul.

While the blonde excelled in other ways of the Force, mental powers were her forte and the darkness that had honed her intellect and her resilience over the years made her mind a beautiful and deadly weapon to inflict suffering. She knew - expected - Razielle to withstand more. What she had sensed in the arena, as well as when reflecting upon the encounter since then, was that the splitting and the mending that had occurred would make Anxia much stronger.

Baska pushed further though, this time focusing on plain but searing pain and sorrow. Razielle may recognize it wasn't her own per se, as she seemed to be now able to, for what Baska observed of her, but relentless fear and devastation could be wearing down even a strong Sith. Being able to withstand exhaustion of any kind, was something they had to excel at. For all manipulation and finesse, resilience in the face of unexpected and powerful threats was crucial, even for one in Razielle's position and even with Salem at her side. One never knew what could happen, and Razielle would also have to be prepared to fight both for herself and her child. While Baska wouldn't hurt the child, she pressed Razielle even worse, wanting to see the other woman stand her ground and not let her mind cripple even as her energy may fade, having to sustain for her sake as well as her child's.

[Razielle Alastor]

None of the emotions being imposed upon Anxia were exactly new to her. Old friends maybe. She recognized fear when it was being willfully inflicted on her. Knew that oppressive feeling of panic. The urge to react in some way, any way, do something! The crawling, nervous, sensation telling you that you were not safe, that what you loved was not safe. It was not easily brushed aside, and yet there she stood, taking it.. Forcing herself to remember her purpose, that going through this, enduring this, was how she was going to protect what was most important to her.

Pain.. It was not physical pain that washed over her, although she could certainly feel the echoes of previous discomfort. The only serious injury she had ever truly sustained had been when a dagger meant for Salem had gone straight through her, back to front punching through just below her clavicle. It had hurt, but it had been the best feeling she had ever had too. Her mostly insignificant injury, or potentially Salem's life? There had been no choice to make. She would take a knife through the back for him daily if it came to that. There had been pain when she had been told she had to marry Tristan Alastor. There had been pain when she had given birth to Beatrix. Each time she thought about the concept of pain, she also came to the realization that whatever that pain took from her, it had given her back something too. And it always made her stronger..

A slight wrinkle of distress creased her smooth brow. Baska was adapting, pushing something new into her mind now.. and she recognized it as sorrow. Not just any sorrow, this was just like she had told Salem after Rattatak. There was nothing general about it, it was specific and it hit it's mark, just as it had the first time. Far too clearly, she could still see how it could all come tumbling down around her. She could lose everything. Their baby, their beautiful perfect daughter.. She could lose him.

Anxia was unused to defending against these kind of psychic Dark Side attacks. The result of never even attempting to shield her mind from her master. For her, there had simply never been a need, she did not keep secrets from him. She could conceal her emotions, her thoughts, and the Force when she needed to, but this was different. Illusions she had plenty of experience with, but this was different from that as well. It was no deception. She knew without a single doubt that what she was feeling was very real.. It was her. Baska.. And it was so strong.. She was struggling with the consummate force of emotion being inflicted on her, it was torture. Torment that felt like it would drag on for an eternity, one where she would linger on with nothing else but this loss, this pain. She was sure it was only taking minutes, but even minutes in that kind of agony felt like ages.

Her jaw tilted a fraction to the side, as though she could turn her face from it. Deny it, somehow. Then, a muscle flexed there and she swallowed, her eyes refocusing on Baska's, determined.

[Baska Tankreyd]

Razielle was stronger than the last time. Baska could sense it, especially now as she relentlessly tortured the other Sith. The blonde maneuvered and manipulated, keeping Razielle on her toes, keeping her guessing again, in betweel the deep sorrow she kept inflicting upon her. The Master worked in layers, for life wasn't a straightforward affair. She had bottomless reserves of ways to test Razielle and she had no qualms using them. She was very much inclined to do what Salem had requested of her, not simply as a way to honor an ally; but also because she had expectations for the Hapan noble. Although she had spent years roaming the galaxy, Baska was keenly aware of how rare a true potential like the pregnant brunette was.

Still standing in front of Salem and Razielle, she felt the shift in the other woman. Her assault didn't halt but her words suddenly pierced through the silence between them. Her tone was no request; but a command.

"Do not flee the attacks. Use them against you. Bend them to your advantage."

[Razielle Alastor]

The attacks on her mind did not slow, let alone stop. That she was able to withstand such an onslaught of pain and anguish, and have the will to see beyond it impressed even Anxia a little. She could feel the natural response to such grief, tears burning like drops of acid behind her eyes threatening to spill over, compelled to fall for the gravity of loss she was enduring. It took all of her self control not to back away from it, even as her chest drew in a shuddering breath.

The woman's words reached her, and she did listen to them..but deep within the prettily packaged, blue and gilt Queen Regent of Hapes, Anxia recoiled.

Nobody but Callidus told her what to do...

Furious, righteous indignation set her own emotions alight, suddenly burning back against the assault on her mind. Whatever she had wanted to prove to herself, she had done so. She could withstand this kind of attack now, she knew how - and more importantly she knew how to push back against it..

Some still controlled part of Anxia did acknowledge that Baska was not commanding her, that she was trying to impart something to her.. That being the point of all of this pain..

Beneath the pale flesh of her jaw, Anxia clenched her teeth, actively fighting back against the blonde Sith now.

[Baska Tankreyd]

Searing through Razielle's psyche, twisting and turning everything she could find, in subtle or blatant way, keeping the woman on edge, Baska felt the repulsion to her words. She wanted Razielle to stand and face the attacks. If it took angering her, so be it. A true Sith embraced all emotions and turned them into weapons for great resilience and power. She wouldn't let go of the Hapes Queen Regent until the other woman would do as such. The Master knew that the brunette had it in her. She had sensed it, and she would push for it.

When she suddenly felt the shift through the Force, the uncanny bond that had begun forming between them during their battle in the arena. Razielle was fighting back, and she was fighting well.

Baska held her ground with little difficulty, but she sensed Razielle hit stronger, twisting what she forced upon her back at her. The Darkness woven between them was becoming thicker.

She kept pushing back against Razielle, relentless in her attack, all the more as she felt the brunette improve her counter-attacks. The twisted but deep satisfaction she got from the brunette gaining new power right before her was invigorating.

[Razielle Alastor]

The fact that she was weathering the fury of Baska's storm, fighting it even, did not make it stop. It continued oppressing her, pushing against all of her shored up weak points. The ones that whispered that she was never strong enough, and then showed her all the ways she was deficient. Somewhere in all of the suffering, Razielle found clarity.. using the torments as lessons. If she could so easily envision all of these failures, then she could also envision the measures she would have to take to prevent them from destroying her life.

Connected to the other Sith in a unique way now, she could sense the truth of what she had only guessed at. This emotional wreckage was not just part of Baska, it was her core. It was exactly what made her the strong Sith she was. It was like gaining a glimpse of her soul for a moment, blinding in it's anguish. Razielle trembled with the raw sensation of it, but her own counter attack did not relent.

Since she had been a child there had been something.. dark and indulgent about her. The concept of taking a life had not bothered her before she had become a Sith, and certainly not now. She had been trained with a deadly weapon from childhood, yet out of necessity she had always been restrained in it's use. It had created a caged monster with a desire to spill blood, and she had indulged it, could indulge it, as she chose now. But it was not Baska's blood she was after today..

Sensing this raw point of loss in the other woman, that was where Razielle pressed now. The Dark Side pulsed with the emotions that had already been churned up, making Razielle seethe with the intensity of it as she went after the source of this suffering within Baska, digging... clawing...scratching into her mind with what was now a merciless need to succeed. Baska had provoked something quite dangerous, Anxia's relentless need to perfect an attack..

[Baska Tankreyd]

It had been a long time since Baska had felt such a raw and deep connection to another dark sider; and it was a testimony to the ways of the Darkness, as well as Razielle's growing strength. Baska's relentlessness meant for the other woman to break down barriers, cornering her like a most dangerous animal that would unravel. The blonde Master knew there was power in self control and patience, as a true predator knew; but if the predator didn't revel into its own madness and blood thirst, they lacked a foundational block of their identity, which in turn would limit their power.

She basked in how Razielle found her shattered core and used it against her, picking on exactly what she had told her to do earlier. For the shortest of instant it, it cut her deep enough to slightly alter the endless torture she was inflicting upon Razielle. It made Baska felt a deep sense of satisfaction; and she pushed harder against the Hapan royal. The beast was cornered, but not enough visibly. Razielle was opening herself to new depths with how she was now pressing all the devastation shards that composed Baska's soul deeper into the Master's psyche.

Baska had the intuition she was close to force Razielle to come even more undone. It was boiling beneath the surface, and she wanted whatever what clawing at the thin gate to burst open. She felt her prey come near, and she wanted to face it, experience its pure deadliness.

[Razielle Alastor]

However long the contest of mental endurance had lasted, Anxia had not moved. She had not retreated from the attack and did not do so now. Apart from the slow tightening of her hands at her sides, the perfect ovals of her fingernails digging into the meat of her palms as she fought back, she was deathly still. Her violet eyes remained fixed upon Baska's, though the heat of whatever ferocious new power that Baska had provoked in her seemed to be affecting even that part of her. The violet color, so synonymous with who she was, seemed to sizzle away in the flare of the Dark Side, turning her eyes into a molten silver. Above them, the Kamarian-crystal chandeliers that lined the stately hall rattled with the vibration of it, beginning to sway dangerously.

With the focus of a carnivorous thing that had caught the scent of blood, Razielle continued to press where she sensed she could do the most damage. It was worse than being tormented by Baska, what she found when she delved too deeply into that particular wound. It was masochism, putting herself into anguish deliberately.. The ornate sapphire and gold collar wrapped around the neck of the Queen Regent did not quite conceal what lay beneath, suspiciously symmetrical bruises, just upon the pulse of her carotid arteries. Evidence for anyone who cared to contemplate that indeed, the Tarix Protecteur and Ta'a Vaisseu Ereneda had some proclivities... Only there was no pleasure to be found here, only pain.. She could not let it stop her, she was ready to push through the pain, if it meant victory..

The connection between them coiled tighter, pain and clarity mixing until Anxia was unsure which fears were her own anymore. The instinct to run to Beatrix was almost overwhelming.. and Baska did seem concerned with her pregnancy. The source of Baska's grief was becoming clearer in their shared misery, and Anxia used it.. viciously, pushing into that spot without finesse. More appropriate to liken it to the desperation of pushing her own thumbs into someone's soft eye sockets, terrible...but effective. She pushed... and pushed...at that vulnerable spot, using Baska's own creative flavor to do it..

[Baska Tankreyd]

Baska's inner mind and unexpected connection to Razielle unveiled into an ice cold hell, full of painful memories, barren lands and corpses, the dark side coiling tighter in the unmistakable way only true Sith could revel in, and seek to conquer, moving in rhythm with the morbid consummation the abysses of the Force inflicted upon them. It didn't mean that her prey learning to be tormentor wasn't crystallizing perfectly before her still blue eyes. The silver hue burning through the amethyst eyes of the Hapan royal wasn't lost on her, even as both of them stood still, staring into each other's soul, tearing whole walls down, as much as the slowest nail ripping, revealing more pain and rage-filled coffins of yesterday and tomorrow.

She heard the rattling of the chandelier, but it didn't come close to compare to the nightmares pulsing anew in her body, tragic tremors of her past. She knew Anxia was in there. She felt i; and she was the flame to that moth. It was the driving force in her unending assault on Razielle's mind. There was an intimate understanding of the Sith life that bound them beyond their differences. This was a rarity in a galaxy, and this was why Baska thirsted after Anxia bursting the lat locks. It was why she was here, and she would see it through.

The moment all hell broke loose, she felt the tragedy pulverize her anew. It wasn't the physical pain that had bothered her as much as the loss of Denart, her mate, and Heyrina, their soon-to-be-born daughter.

Bright eyes turned to crimson as her deafening howl struck through the room, the ripple of her past bringing the chandelier to the ground. Mokosh unleashed, energy tendrils slithered around Anxia's neck, wrapping on the bruises an ornate collar failed to properly conceal from a predator's eye. She tossed her straight towards Salem, surely a surprising move given the dark specter the tall blonde had become.

Baska had retrieved just enough control to remember she would not harm Razielle's child, even in the deepest and most dangerous of pits.

The whole room still trembling, Baska's fiery eyes darted at Salem, her voice harsh but satisfied. "Your mate Anxia is stronger now."

[Salem Ave]

The ball of energy around Callidus’s first burst outward, a shell of translucent shadow enveloping both the Sith Lord and his apprentice as she collided bodily with him. He allowed himself to be staggered a step, to catch Anxia against his chest. Fragments of the shattered chandelier ricocheted against the protective bubble, the Force deflecting the shards of crystal and scattering them across the polished floor with hundreds of others, like constellations.

Someone outside the hall shouted something in Hapan, alarmed at the almighty crash and the wail of anguish that had torn through the lower levels of the fortress. Salem’s white eyes didn’t leave Baska, not for a second. Without looking, he cast a hand backwards, the Dark Side rolling from his claws. The fists hammering against the doors were suddenly subdued, silent.

[Razielle Alastor]

At the howl from Baska, Anxia's face lit up in a grin of pure malevolence. Now that she had succeeded, the last thing she wanted to do was stop. Mercy was not a sentiment that she suffered. The decision was not to be hers it seemed. At once, tendrils of the Dark Side constricted around her throat. Not the kind designed to choke her, so much as to ensnare her, lifting her by the neck right off her feet. At Anxia's sides, her hands unclenched. She had dug so deeply into her palms that she had torn open a recent wound (https://theholo.net/forum/showthread.php?56893-Benediction&p=1063632&viewfull=1#post1063632) that was still healing. Droplets of blood, as red as Baska's eyes, fell like raindrops from her hand as she was thrown backward, away from Baska, straight into her master. Naturally, Salem caught her against him, and then kept her there as the chandelier came down, Kamarian-crystal shards everywhere but where they stood.

It was a conscious effort on Anxia's part to use that moment of chaos. With Salem's arm around her she chose wisdom over base instinct, effectively putting her monster to rest for now.

By the time the guards at the doors were moderated by the will of her master, some of the animus was fading from her eyes. Restoring her focus to their purpose, and acknowledging Baska's words with a single lowering of her dark head. Her eyes, amethyst once again, remained locked on Baska as well. The attacks had ended, but.. some part of that connection remained. It was not as before, when some dark fragment of their encounter had infected her psyche. It was more of a lingering sense of being entwined..and not in any sort of good way. All of Razielle's very worst fears were Baska's reality. It had made a bond where one should not exist, but she did not remark on it.

They had made a bit of a mess she noted, absently. An impudent smirk ticked at the corner of her mouth, but did not appear. It might have, had her spirit not felt lashed with misery just then.

[Baska Tankreyd]

The direct aftermath felt like profound dissociation to Baska. She was keenly aware of what happened in the room, and how Salem quieted whatever ruckus the destroyed chandelier had provoked. She watched the interaction between the two other Sith; just as she noted Razielle's eyes reverting to their natural amethyst hue, along with the nod to the statement she had made about Anxia's rising power. The blonde knew shards of glass and metal had cut into her own skin, nothing that would leave permanent traces, though she bore so many scars in her soul and under her garments that she may not care that much.

The tempest raging in her core was not abated though. The deep wound was opened anew; and basking into its tragedy was what had kept her alive for so long. It was why she stood today as a powerful Sith who had survived more than many mere mortals would succeed in sustaining. She knew too well what she had lost. She found disturbing solace into other aspects of her life; but truth was that all her losses could take a toll even on the most vicious predator, even on the proudest lone wolf. Nobody had ever come any close to claim Denart's place in her heart; and her barren womb was a painful reminder of the price she had paid.

She knew not how short or long she had stood there, a dark ghost whose flame got contained for public endeavors; but never extinguished.

Right then and there, she couldn't bear to stare at Salem and Razielle, at what they had. Her memories were threatening to rip her flesh and mind to shreds again; and she needed solitude.

"I will see you later," she said stoically, before leaving the chambers, head high but soul crushed.

[Salem Ave]

With Baska’s departure, the violence of the two women’s mental battle and the fall of the chandelier gave way to a weighty silence. Salem relaxed his hold on the Dark Side and the sphere of energy surrounding them ebbed away.
For a quiet moment, he looked towards the doors that Baska had departed through.

“You broke her,” Salem said, breaking the silence at last. There was no sadness or pity in his voice. Only a hint of... satisfaction, of pride. He turned his white gaze back to look down at Razielle.

”We could have destroyed her, then. You could have destroyed her.”

[Razielle Alastor]

Watching Baska depart brought Razielle no joy. There was a part of her that even felt compelled to follow, but she knew that sort of tactful retreat when she saw it. It was not from a place of weakness, but from the very source of Baska's strength. Only right now, that place was like an exposed nerve, raw and angry. She could understand the woman's need for solitude, she could still feel it.

It did not lessen the immediate wave of gratification that did wash through her at Salem's words, even with the surge of anguish that she had been engulfed in still receding. It had been a long time since Razielle had felt the rush that accompanied mastering a new skill, but rather than leaving her feeling satisfied she found herself hungry for more. While she bore no true malice toward Baska, the act itself had been more than satisfying. She would be a liar if she did not admit that causing that much pain to another had been something to savor. There had been a second there.. she had not wanted to stop. To keep on and completely shatter her opponent, whoever it had been.

"That.. would be an incredible waste.", she said, lifting her eyes to his. Razielle had not trusted herself to speak while Baska had still been there, knowing anything she had said would have come out as a snarl. Her growl had eased, along with her rage, but there was a husky tone to her voice from behind hurled across the room by her throat.

[Salem Ave]

“Indeed.”

Without any outward sign of it, Salem drew his power inward, releasing the guards he had briefly held in a state of frozen obedience. The doors to the hall immediately flew open, with Chume’doro bearing rifles and polearms rushing in, their eyes alert to any threat. The captain at the head of the group looked to the Lord Protector, who stood with an arm around Razielle, and then to the chaos around them, with a lack of understanding.

“Ta'a Vaisseu Ereneda is unharmed,” Salem said, seeing the hint of panic in the captain’s eyes. It would have been deeply shameful for her, he knew, to be known as the woman who had allowed the mother of ereneda to be crushed beneath a falling chandelier. It was the kind of oversight of duty that would have almost certainly forced the young captain to take her own life.

[Razielle Alastor]

When the Royal Guard did enter Razielle stayed as she was, tucked against Salem's side. The disarray of the formerly resplendent hall gave her her additional moments to refocus herself. Presently, she had no intention of letting him go. Too many dark thoughts still swirled through her mind, along with the knowledge of just what it would feel like to lose him. At least there was that, she thought. That was one fate at least that she would never know. Unseen, but deeply felt through her flesh, something dark coiled upward from her left hand, circulating throughout her being. If that day ever came.. she would not be left behind.

Salem's voice beneath her ear brought her eyes up to meet the captain's concerned ones. The woman probably assumed she was having an attack of the vapors from the stress of the chandelier falling.

Standing a bit taller, Razielle frowned. "It quite nearly injured our guest."

Displeasure was evident in her scratchy voice. "If she elects to stay after this, Lady Tankreyd will need rooms, and perhaps medical attention."

[Salem Ave]

With no more threat to royal life than the potential Razielle might stand on a fragment of crystal, the Chume’doro visibly relaxed. The captain began to pass orders among her subordinates: to fetch someone to clean up the mess, to find someone to see to the Ta’din Tankreyd. While the staff of the Reef Fortress moved efficiently about their business, Salem looked down at Raielle.

“Perhaps you’d like to rest, until our guest has recovered.”

[Razielle Alastor]

Beneath the surface of her white skin, Razielle's cells still pulsed with the enormity of what she had just done, unspent energy crawled inside of her. The execution of the thing had not left her weakened or physically unsteady, despite outward appearances. If anything, it had been invigorating. She was certainly not in need of rest, and yet..

"Yes. I am quite wearied by all of this." Ta'a Vaisseu Ereneda agreed, even managing to sway just a little on her feet, lending authenticity to the words.

Razielle wisely kept her bleeding hand tucked behind her back, lest someone see her injury and elect to fuss over it. They would find the wound was not from a splinter of fallen crystal, but self-inflicted and she had no intention of explaining herself. Not now, not ever.

[Salem Ave]

They left the hall and were shadowed by the Chume’doro at a respectful distance until it became clear where the Lord Protector and Ta'a Vaisseu Ereneda were going. The royal tower stood at the centre of the fortress and was accessible by only a single entryway, making it the most defensible portion of the entire structure. Even the most paranoid of the royal guards would feel confident waiting at the towers entrance, rather than following Razielle and her consort to the summit.

The uppermost room was a secure chamber for the Chume, though Beatrix was not present; she remained in the Fountain Palace, under the watchful eyes of Ta’din Terranova and Major Lecavalier.

“That was impressive,” Salem said, as he closed the door behind him. He turned to regard Razielle who was practically vibrating with energy.

“I wonder... if you could do the same to me.”

[Razielle Alastor]

"I know that I can."

No doubt about the outcome, should she attempt it, lingered in her voice. Only absolute certainty. Razielle could feel the change in herself. Baska had spoken true, she was stronger now, and she was not afraid to find out just how much stronger.

There were many variations to the smiles Razielle wore, this one was predatory. There were few things in her life that gave her as much pleasure as earning Salem's approval. She loved the accompanying rush that ran through her each and every time, never tiring of it. She loved him.. but if he wanted a demonstration, who was she to argue with Master Callidus..?

Walking backward into the room, she inclined her dark head in the direction of the bed, sultry grin still in place. There was no reason that she could determine why Salem could not be physically comfortable at least. That was not where she went right away though, first she made a stop off at a tall chest of drawers, retrieving a length of silk to bind around her hand until the bleeding stopped.

[Salem Ave]

“I’ve always admired your... confidence,” Salem said, offering Razielle an arch smile as he walked to the bed. They were fortunate that within the confines of the royal tower, there was no gigantic chandelier to shatter. The worst they might do would be splinter some no doubt priceless furniture. The room had been designed to keep threats out, but it would do just as well to keep in whatever came next.

[Razielle Alastor]

"Mmm, was that what it was then?" Razielle remarked, almost casually, while slowly wrapping the white silk around, and around her hand, until red ceased to show through. "My confidence..?"

With a nip of her teeth, she tore the end of the silk making a weak spot, then ripped it down the middle. With a bit of direction from the curiously composed Sith, the ends tied themselves neatly as she walked forward. Showy displays of how she could wield the Force were not counted among Razielle's habits. It simply seemed expedient and so she had done it. If she could assemble a lightsaber, she could certainly tie a sturdy knot.

With Baska, she had known where to hit the hardest. For her, it had been grief. The woman had practically shown her, and shown her how to wield it, and so she had. It would be different, Razielle realized, each time she did this. Each person she did this to. It would be personal. As she had seen with Baska, it was not impossible to become a lost in another's suffering.

Stopping at the end of the bed just before her master, Razielle waited, her fingertips already wiggling in anticipation.

[Salem Ave]

She was smiling at him, a familiar sort of smile. The kind that was designed to provoke him, the kind that had provoked him more than once in the past. Salem reclined in the royal bed, resting his head on a plump pillow and closing his white eyes, having none of the appearance of a man who was about to be attacked. The corners of his mouth twitched upward.

“Where is the gap in my defences? What suffering will you exploit?”

[Razielle Alastor]

Despite her scratchy throat, Razielle manage a small chuckle at that. "Maybe, darling... it's not about a weakness in your defenses." He would find out.

Following Salem backward onto the mattress, Razielle felt just the tiniest bit of remorse. It was true, she had chosen to be bound, body and soul, to someone most people would accuse of being completely apathetic. She might even have agreed with them once upon a time, but no more. She knew better. She had spent more than a decade preparing for just this sort of opportunity. Getting underneath of Salem's skin, dragging out responses he would rather keep buried. That was what she did! She was the violet crash of lightning that briefly lit up every dark corner of him. Salem could provide the growl of thunder if he liked, but it would not stop her.

Still smiling down at his closed eyes, Razielle kissed her fingers before walking them up his chest. She did not need to touch him to do this, she wanted to. Pale white fingers circled around his throat, but not to squeeze.. she just held him there as she began as Baska had, experimentally at first, finding what would work best. She had plenty of ideas for her dearly beloved. She needed no conjured wraith to scare him with, that was his domain. She knew him. What he had achieved. What he still wanted. Those were fine places to start pulling threads, tearing things apart..

[Salem Ave]

As Razielle’s hand settled over his throat, Salem did not move, only exhaled slowly. It was not her fingers constricting around his neck that posed an imminent threat, rather the touch of her mind against his. He felt it, the first brush of her consciousness through the telepathic bridge created by the Force. On their return journey from Rattatak (https://theholo.net/forum/showthread.php?57742-Residuum), Salem had wrestled with the aftermath of Baska splintering Razielle’s thoughts. What he had felt in her mind had been chaotic, like a wild and wounded animal. Now, there was no chaos. Only a slow, almost serpentine feeling, creeping towards and through him. A familiar sensation that said: you know me, I am not dangerous. Let me coil myself around and inside of you. Rather than trying to put a mental block between his thoughts and Razielle, he allowed the connection between the two of them to become stronger.

[Razielle Alastor]

Things would be different, she knew, had Salem put up a fight at all. Encountering little resistance, apart from the expected complexity that was her master's mind, was enough to coax another twitch of a smile on Razielle's lips. And why should Salem fight her? From the very beginning she had been his devoted apprentice, constantly complicit in anything he had asked of her, even if she had not understood it, or wanted it at the time. She had always been his, to shape her or destroy her, as he liked. His ardent, dark bride that wanted only for him. He had only to name his desire and she would focus all of her relentless passion on whatever it was, until they had achieved it. And so she had always been..

Or just maybe he had underestimated her, just a bit.

There was no vanity in the fact that Razielle knew the value of her beauty. Had she not been graced with her looks, there would never have been a question of Queen Mother Ishara desirous of mingling their bloodlines through Tristan. The Hapans themselves would never have accepted a common, lack luster, female as the divine vessel of their next goddess queen. She'd learned to utilize that particular weapon to get her way years before she ever heard the name Salem Ave. It was the perfect prelude, one smile and somehow they all thought her genuine. Even Salem had..

Above him, Razielle leaned forward, her smile changing into something.. just a bit nasty.

She played the role well, the doting and steadfast lover, and it had served her equally as well. Taken her from a remote beach where she had been nothing but a lesser noble, fated to be married off to someone equally as mundane, and now she was the Queen Regent of Hapes.

[Salem Ave]

Salem’s mind was drawn inexorably back, back to their first meeting so many years ago. He had not earned the trust of Adraudia Basille, and yet he styled himself as an ambassador of Onderon. Everyone had believed his story, eagerly eaten up the lies, but none of them had looked so intently at him as Razielle Shadana.

A girl, desperate to be free from a life of restrictions, of performing for the entertainment of petty nobles. They had met under cover of darkness, her eyes locked earnestly to his, her hands sliding up his chest and bunching in the fabric of his shirt. She needed him. She would do anything he wanted, anything. If only he would take her away...

A slow poison began to drip, drip, drip into Salem’s subconscious. On the word of a stranger, Razielle had condemned her entire family to death. The people who had known and loved her best, she had discarded. When they had outlasted their usefulness, when Salem has offered her something more, she had cast them aside without a second thought. Now, it was as if they had never existed, and her heart was utterly free of remorse. If she could do it so easily to them, to Tristan Alastor, then why not -

Salem opened his eyes, looking up into the smile, almost a sneer, twisting Razielle’s lips.

[Razielle Alastor]

When viewed without the rosy lens of affection, their story was very a different one. It was just possible, that one of the greatest players of the game, might have been played himself, for years. It had taken Razielle some effort, but in time she had wound him around her pretty little finger. With the power of her very own pet Sith Master, look at all that she had achieved. She had spent a decade learning from him. All that he had shown her, and all that she had observed of him on her own, unaided. No one could say that she had not grown stronger because of Salem Ave.

Sick satisfaction twisted her smile further. Her eyes that always seemed to shine like gems just for him, now seemed cold with calculation. There was no hiding from that gaze, she pinned him beneath it. She saw him. All the way back through all the various masks he had worn. Lord Protector. Minister of State. Prime Minister. Ambassador. She could, and would, flay each one away until there was nothing left but the stripped, raw truth of him.

[Salem Ave]

Like flesh stripped away, each layer revealed new blood beneath it. Lord Protector of Hapes. Minister of State for the Alliance. Prime Minister of Onderon. Advisor to the Queen of Onderon. Sith Lord. Sith Knight. Jedi Knight. Jedi Padawan. The many faces he had worn, many of them before their time together.

Callidus, the Fanged God, Salem Ave, Glace Kilgannon, Alaric Sunfell, Salemescro Avesca. The shapes of each of them rose up around her, in her mind, like shadows, eclipsing indistinct figures who stood behind each of them. Behind each of his false identities, there were women, reaching out towards him. A red-skinned Twi’lek, covered in tattoos. A white-haired Jedi, stained with the ashes of the Jedi Temple. Ishara Alastor, her throat slit and bubbling with dark blood. Adraudia, entombed. All of his apprentices. Beatrix. Beatrix, in manacles, chained to the throne, rivulets of blood spilling from beneath her crown. Their bodies emaciated, drained of all vitality, and their faces contorted in soundless fear, desire, or fury. As the shadows grew longer, the women were lost, forgotten, and the face of each mask he wore faded into nothing, featureless but for a pair of empty white eyes staring forward.

A voice echoed in Razielle’s mind, a chorus of voices, similar yet different enough that the ear could not help but strain, maddeningly, to listen for the false note that surely betrayed which was the true voice.

There was no mistaking the source of the words. Razielle had heard them before (https://theholo.net/forum/showthread.php?16883-Coming-Undone&p=239705&viewfull=1#post239705): “Our charade is at an end.”

What had she found, at that final layer of him? Like a scab, picked and picked and picked, nothing good could come of it. What was Salem, truly, beneath all of it? Beneath the ambition, the deception? The deeper Razielle reached into him, questing for the truth, the less of him there was. Only shadows, like smoke. No pride to exploit, no fear, no love - not for her, not for their daughter, not for anything. Faceless shadows with white eyes. A void, cold and empty.

[Razielle Alastor]

It was not that she was unaware of the imposing figures hovering menacingly around the edges of her own mind, and the shattered remains of the women behind them. Just that the only egotistical terror that concerned her presently was the one beneath her hand. As for the shriveled husks of women, their interest to her was negligible. They should have more carefully tended to their own futures, they might have seen her there, smirking back at them.

Even as everything she knew to be true faded away into just...nothing, she remained in control. She had known from the start, nothing about this was going to be pleasant for either of them. That was all there was in this transaction of Baska's.. pain for pain. Find it and use it, or craft it and push it inside. It made no difference once the connection was made, and theirs was strong.. She'd been aware of the damage she was doing to herself while connected to Baska this way, but even that paled in comparison to this. Razielle's face moved a fraction, although her focused eyes never left his.

There was just nothing. Colder than a corpse. Blacker than a sealed tomb. Nothing was there, not even hate, which would have been something at least. Instead, all she could feel in response to her merciless exhumation was indifference...and it made her furious. For the second time that day, she felt a familiar buzzing beneath her skin. It felt like a million spiders wriggling, about to explode out from her pores. She did not see it, but doubtless he did, as the color of her eyes bled away, the gentle violet shade sizzling into mercurial silver.

Asserting some kind of control over the unspent power pulsing inside her, Razielle refused to capitulate with the facts as they were presented. He could torture her later, if that was what he wanted. Around his throat, her fingers tightened. She was in control now. Dropping the reigns on that control, the energy lashed out of her directly into the abysmal darkness. All of the dark thoughts that made Razielle who she was, no apathy there. The complete opposite in fact, one unstoppable cresting wave of every wild emotion contained inside of her, and she had so many..

[Salem Ave]

It was like screaming into the vacuum of space.

While her eyes burned like molten metal, Salem’s white gaze remained constant and unwavering, as cold and distant as two stars. As her hand constricted around his throat, his lips pressed into a thin, dispassionate line. He had been a Jedi once, hadn’t he? Skilled in denying emotions of all kinds, and yet it wasn’t the pious dogma of the Light Side that seemed to fill him now. He could feel her, feel the torrent of emotion cascading from inside of her, and it was though he simply did not care.

Beneath his composed exterior, Salem felt the rush of Razielle’s psychic assault as if it were a physical thing. The cacophony of emotion was so dense that he was impossible to distinguish any one part. It all became... fury.

[Razielle Alastor]

Her graceful dark brow arched, just momentarily.. a flickering expression that seemed to imply acceptance of a defeat.

She simply gave up on him.

What was the point in further exhausting herself on Salem's behalf really? She had all she needed from him. If there was truly nothing left there at their core, nothing except cold indifference and manipulation, then she did not need him anymore.

One by one, all of those vibrant, responsive emotions that comprised who Razielle was retracted from the connection between them. Pulled back like fangs that had been about to bite, but found him no longer worth the effort. Even her grip around his neck slackened.

She could feel the truth of it, as he would be able to as well. If Razielle asked it of her, Baska would continue her training. She need not lose a master at all.

Callidus had taught her many things, but this might have been the most important lesson of them all. The utter fallacy of having placed her faith in someone else. He had won, it seemed. She'd learned how to be like him. How to.. not care at all. Rather than let those emotions back in, she just let them wink out like snuffed candles. They could both live in the cold and dark. She no longer cared, she...only needed him to not die.

[Salem Ave]

The heat of her emotions, swirling angrily inside of him, began to cool. Like a solar wind, scattering into the darkness as quick as it has come. All that fury, all that passion, it pulled back out of him, a tidal wave in retreat. The absence of her, the utter indifference, was more chilling than its presence ever could have been. The grip on Salem’s throat slackened. He swallowed, his lips twitching apart for a moment with something unsaid…

He would destroy Baska. If that was what it took, to keep her, he would do it. There could be no question of Razielle’s loyalty, no chance that she would betray him - no chance that she would… leave him. His mouth turned down at the corners, and Salem reached up into the space between them, sliding claws around her neck.

[Razielle Alastor]

Ahhhh, there it was.

She could feel it now, as surely as her teeth had penetrated a weak spot in the silk currently wound about her hand. It felt something just a little like paranoia, perhaps a little spoonful of panic mixed in. She knew that feeling well. That was almost exactly the one she had succumbed to herself, and it had just about broken her. Just recognizing it for what it was, it was like stepping into it again. It made you question everything. Did you really know the people closest to you? Did they mean the things they said? Would they betray you? Was anything true at all?

Like the silk, she had made a vulnerable spot, all that remained now was rip it apart. Rip him apart.

Razielle did not shrink away from the claws around her own neck, she leaned forward into him. Her fingers flexed, just once before going still once more, gripping him quite firmly again. At once, she ceased everything she was doing in her mind. In the space of one beat of her heart and the next, she was once more exactly as she had always been. Exactly as she appeared to be. His.

Her mouth was just a breath away from his. "Enough?"

[Salem Ave]

There was a moment, a flicker of possibility, in which he felt Razielle just a breath away from tearing into him. Eviscerating him, seizing on that seething sensation of covetous desire to dismantle him entirely. Instinct and reflexes honed over years in service to the Dark Side compelled Salem to do more than just lie beneath her, but he pushed down the impulse.

Seconds later, the threat evaporated.

The tension in the connection between them shifted to something more familiar.

“Enough,” he breathed, lifting his head to brush his lips against hers, while his hold on her throat tightened.

[Razielle Alastor]

The residual effects of the attack on her had lasted for hours, dug deep into her subconscious like a burrowing insect. She had not rid the infestation by herself. Salem was stronger.. He also had the benefit of being tested with this trick of Baska's by someone who truly was that devoted to him. Razielle had no desire to leave any lasting damage with him, and inflicting that kind of torment on him brought her no real pleasure.

What did please her though, was to prevail in rattling him, as he had requested it.

Demonstration concluded, body and mind driven to the brink of frenzy twice now, Razielle trembled a bit. There was nothing so reassuring to her as Salem's kisses, or his claws around her throat. What might have seemed like a gesture of punishment to some felt only like a caress of belonging to her. Another fancy collar, one made of his flesh and bone..

"I would never betray you...", she managed between covetous kisses. "..or leave you. Not for anyone, or anything."

Doubtless, these things went without saying, yet they came tumbling from her lips all the same.

[Salem Ave]

The worm of paranoia did not shrivel up and die right away, but it’s gnawing at Salem’s subsconscious became less insistent. He had known the purpose of the exercise all along, and yet it was a testament to Razielle’s growing power that he had, undeniably, felt an unsettling surge of betrayal at the thought of being replaced, usurped. He had shown her what he felt she must fear the most and, deftly, with all the finesse of a well-timed riposte that would have pleased her old fencing tutors, she had turned it back on him.

It wasn’t fear or doubt he felt, now; it was pride. Pride that squashed the last traces of paranoia, smothered them. So many had pledged themselves to him, to Callidus, but only she had the potential and the power to truly stand not only as his apprentice but as his equal. Pulling his lips from hers, he squeezed her throat tighter and smiled at the little gasp of breath she made, the shudder of her pulse beginning to quicken against his touch.

She could not leave him, any more than he could leave her. The two of them were inextricably bound, to death and whatever darkness lay beyond.

[Razielle Alastor]

The slightly higher pitched catch of her breath, followed by a reflexive swallow of her throat, obviously did not bother Razielle. Had she been able, she might have purred.

Her own white hand fell away from Salem's throat, both hands then drifting to his shoulders, pulling him up closer to her, fancy silk dress becoming bunched around her thighs. She needed Salem that close. Never satisfied until there was nothing between them, not even space. Still riding the intensity of so much channeled emotion, she could think of no better way to have the excess be consumed.

Be consumed.

Little points of light blinked at the edges of her periphery, hypoxic stars beginning to shoot through her brain. From the delicate bones of her bound hand, she could feel something.. serpentine.. slither through her veins. It was a dark, potentially catastrophic, bond Salem had placed on them, and she would not have it any other way.

[Salem Ave]

Had a member of the Chume’doro walked into the tower at that moment, it would have looked as if the Lord Protector was about to murder Ta'a Vaisseu Ereneda. She was clutching him, yes, kneeling over hiim with the hunger of a lover, but it was his clawed fingers that closed around her throat, holding her in place, smiling at the sound of her struggling for breath. It would only take a matter of moments longer; as her consciousness began to drift into oxygen-deprived darkness, his white eyes would be the last thing she saw.

[Razielle Alastor]

Surrendering was a concept that was normally anathema to Razielle's nature. On the contrary, she was unyielding in a way that only someone born to nobility could be. Maybe that was why she liked having the option denied her.. but only by him. Surrendering to Salem was it's own victory.

She felt weightless. A little cold. A little far away, despite their closeness. Beginning to drift into darkness and oblivion. A sensible person would be afraid, but Razielle felt euphoric as her oxygen starved cells, all of them, pulsed with sensation. It should have been terrifying, hearing the reflexive choking sounds of her own throat. Feeling her own fingertips, that had just been gripping him so insistently, slipping away because she was too weak to keep them upon his shoulders. Feeling her empty lungs fluttering like deflated balloons beneath her ribs, chest trembling with the demand for air. She did not fight, not even then. Not even as she felt like she was falling, her body going as limp and pliant as a doll, one that twitched a final few shudders before going still. Glazed violet eyes, that had been locked on his just one second before, were now unfocused.

[Salem Ave]

When her body sagged against him, Salem relented. Enough, he thought. She had surrendered enough. Though the darkness that bound them together thrived on their willingness, and indeed their eagerness, to push one another to the precipice of collapse, being pulled back from that perilous edge was just as thrilling. Salem’s claws shifted from a vice-like hold on her neck to a lighter touch on her jaw, holding her head up so that he could watch the spark reappear behind her eyes.

[Razielle Alastor]

The one thing Razielle was not afraid of was that Salem would actually kill her. She was secure with the knowledge that, even right there on the cusp of asphyxiation, she had never been held safer. The claws around her neck weren't harming her, so much as pushing her, seeing how much she could take.. just a little longer.. The last shiver of her coincided with the pressure on her neck relenting, and air finally flowing back in.

Her pulse was weak, fluttering in erratic spasms as life rushed back through her, but she could not hear it roaring for oxygen. The only thing of any importance were the white eyes watching her, and her immediate recognition of who held her enervated body.

"Salem..", she managed a breathless rasp, reaching for him with strength returning to her fingers.

[Salem Ave]

Later...

It was difficult to mark the passage of time on Hapes by the setting of the sun, when the planet lived in almost perpetual daylight. Hours could have trickled by and no one would have gone looking for Ta'a Vaisseu Ereneda and her consort. There were matters to attend to however and so, in time, Salem and Razielle emerged together from the royal tower. Major Lecavalier was waiting at the exit. She looked the two of them over, with no attempt to hide her scrutiny. Though Salem had left behind the overcoat that finished his uniform (https://media.alienwarearena.com/media/75233b3d600ed86da37d57eebfa08535.jpg) as Lord Protector, there wasn’t a wrinkle on him, save for a slight tousling of his hair. Razielle was likewise composed.

“There’s food on it's way to the small dining room,” the Major said. “Ta’din Tankryed has been informed.”

[Razielle Alastor]

Razielle had changed her gown, retiring the Hapan blue and gold for something cooler against her flush skin. The wine red silk she had chosen had a low cut in the back, leaving her bare to the small of her back, and was sleeveless. The front draped from around a smaller golden collar fastened around her neck. Not one designed to conceal anything, simply the nature of the dress. Likewise, a belt of gold emphasized the curve of her still small body.

Apart from the two of them, Baska was the only other one who knew of her condition. It seemed their new acquaintance had been the first to know, in fact. With Beatrix, by this point she had been what Lira had referred to as 'a lovely shade of green' most of the day. Curiously, with this child Razielle still felt fine. It seemed she would be spared that particular trial this time. Instead, what she felt was over-heated almost all the time. Her skin felt too sensitive for formal attire. She had been favoring lighter, airy materials since their official return to the Fountain Palace. Also, she was ravenous.. but not for food.

Her amaranthine eyes slid to Major Lecavalier, a slight arching of one dark brow carried many implications, and no explanations with it. The major was a Hapan woman, Razielle doubted any explanations would have been necessary anyway.

"You can tell them we'll take it outside.." Razielle said, without caring for any plans that had already been made. She wanted the sea breeze against her skin, and did not care who was inconvenienced by it.

The small dining room was anything but small. It was merely slightly smaller than the formal dining room. One side of the space was lined with sets of Hapan doors, boasting sea-themed colored glass, that opened outward onto a stone carved veranda, above the waves below. There were even less informal tables and chairs, as well as cushioned lounges and couches strewn about. They would be much more comfortable, and the Major could be comfortable knowing there was only one way in or out, short of dropping into the sea.

[Baska Tankreyd]

Time had compressed and distended in its unexpected patterns, since Baska had walked out of the chambers where she had met with Razielle and Salem earlier on. The time spent assuaging the searing pain pulverizing her mind over and over again had left her with needs to be sated. The four servants of House Alastor were barely leaving, one with a limp, all of them with cuts and scratches, and looking fairly exhausted. She had done no permanent damage to them, for she knew how to be a proper guest, even in her most improper moments. The sensual overwhelm had been a temporary balm on the disquiet in her soul. They were definitely well trained and complied to orders as she saw fit. Life was what it was, and it took a lot for Baska's thoughts to dull out, to set forlorn times ablaze via forcing her senses over the edge on numerous occasions. It was much to her chagrin that she never seemed able to get past her late husband, and his unique way of asserting the most enticing dominion over her; but things were what they were, and the Sith Master had learned to compose with the trials of life. In the end, it could only make her stronger.

She was refreshed and dressed in a red gown (https://i.pinimg.com/originals/ee/a3/51/eea3513d3391a64d85addbab907a55e4.jpg), as she was escorted to the terrace where her hosts awaited her. She appreciated the sea breeze, as it reminded her of Iego and her own residence. She smiled to the couple. "Good evening," she said with ease, quite the contrast with the Sith duel that had occurred most vibrantly in the chambers a few hours ago. She took place in a comfortable armchair, so she could look at the two other Sith, as well as enjoy the view. She was inwardly amused that both Razielle and her had opted for red outfits.

[Salem Ave]

In years gone by, Salem would have found the veranda a difficult setting to adjust to. Formality would have dictated that he sit straight backed in an armchair, if he sat at all. When he was Tarix Protecteur, standing before the assembled houses of the Consortium, that formality still lingered, but then, on the veranda of the Reef Fortress, Salem could… relax, a little. He sat one of the couches and, his eyes meeting Razielle’s, gave the space beside him a little pat with two claws. His white eyes lingered for a moment longer on Razielle, before shifting over to Baska.

“Are you feeling recovered?”

[Razielle Alastor]

While Razielle might have implied that there was some doubt as to whether or not Ta'din Tankreyd would return after the incident in the hall with the chandelier, there had never really been a doubt. It was evident, and palpable in the Force, that they all had much to consider. With her back to the doors, the Queen Regent had stood waiting, the ocean breezes teasing at the artfully escaped tendrils of her upswept hair. Turning, there was a genuine smile on her lips as Baska rejoined them.

"Good evening, Baska..", she greeted the Sith Master, privately amused with their mutual choice of color. While unintended, ultimately it was unsurprising. Among the things they had in common, one was a great abundance of passion. Garbing oneself in the color of blood did seem very symbolic of that.

She could not have been compelled forward more efficiently had there been an actual rope around her waist, coiled tighter and tighter in one clawed grip.. Lips curling in undisguised delight, Razielle closed the short distance with remarkably restrained steps. Sliding into the exact place, body aligned toward Salem, she looked back toward their guest.

"You seem much restored.", Razielle offered. While she had not yet been apprised of the lady's deeds over the last few hours, having only just emerged herself, she had suspicions. Ta'din Tankreyd looked like a woman who had just taken what she wanted.

There was familiarity in the cheekiness of her comment. Maybe they had not established such a relationship as yet, but Razielle felt confident that after having their own private misery and fear laid so bare before each other, a bit of impertinence could be acceptable.

[Baska Tankreyd]

Baska observed the interaction between Salem and Razielle. Both Sith had a Force life bond, which was obvious to anyone spending a minute with them; but it made her ponder how come her own bond with Denart had been so strong, before she became a Sith, and that he was no Force user either. She briefly wondered whether what they had might have been some sort of Force tie, with both of them having latent potential. She would consider that later, in her lone wolf hours. For now, she was actually glad to spend more time with her hosts.

She smiled at Salem's and Razielle's words. "I am definitley rejuvenated. I command how well trained your servants are," she said with a slight bow of her head and the dark spark in her eye. She had no reason to hide nor to discuss her sexual interlude after all. She would be surprised if the couple hadn't done about the same, especially with the vicious burst of energy that she had felt from Razielle by the time she had wandered off.

"You seem well rested as well, Razielle," she observed with almost the same hint of cheekiness. It was a rarity for Baska to feel at such ease with others, but the bond that had developed as per the will of the darkness, between the brunette and herself had set deep roots from the very beginning. Without her faith, Baska would have probably discarded such possibilities; but she knew better.

She fetched a flute of liquor, and raised it at her guests. It was about the most civilized they had ever got to be, which seemed an appropriate order for who they were.

"To new alliances," she toasted, meaning it.

As much as they could all tear one another apart; Baska knew that it was in their respective interest to do differently for the foreseeable future.

[Salem Ave]

It was as if the staff of the fortress had known there would be something celebrate. Either that, or it was simply Hapan custom to be well-furnished with alcohol at just about any time of the day. Salem certainly would not have doubted the latter. He reached for two glasses, close at hand, and offered one to Razielle.

“New alliances...” he agreed, lifting his glass, but not drinking.

When he had first crossed paths with Baska, years ago, it had never occurred to Salem that they might become allies one day. As a younger man, living under the alias Glace Kilgannon, he had been wary of attachment. The galaxy’s hatred of the Jedi, of the Force, had made isolation a necessity. That mistrust had lingered with Salem, long into his career as a politician, and yet he did not find himself now looking on Baska Tankreyd with suspicion. Not anymore. She had been given ample opportunity to take everything from him, but instead she had given. He could sense it; there was a thread of something between her and Razielle, a connection, a kind of… kinship that reminded him of Razielle’s past affection for Adraudia Basille.

Wrapping an arm around Razielle, Salem at last took a sip from his glass - something golden and warming as it hit the tongue - as he considered his next words.

“You’ve shared a great deal with us, Baska. What can we do for you in return?”

[Razielle Alastor]

She did not miss a beat, quite obviously enjoying the thinly veiled banter with the other woman. "Yes, I find myself in need of.. rest most frequently of late." The dark spark in Baska's eyes was mirrored in her own.

Razielle took the glass, eyeing the contents. It was not death by poison that concerned her, just something about the alcohol itself. "New alliances..", she echoed, taking a tiny sip. While she shared the sentiment of binding their new alliance with a toast, she quickly set aside the glass. It was more likely the life growing within her that protested the choice of beverage.

The thought brought a hand to her stomach. While there was nothing to perceive outwardly yet, what lived beneath her flesh still too small to be noted, it was nonetheless foremost in her thoughts. There were many reasons to encourage Baska to stay with them, ones that brought them all mutual power and advantage. Razielle's reasons were more personal perhaps. She did not know the details, but she knew the end result of what Baska had lost, having felt them first hand. What she wanted... was for Baska to use that destructive core at her center. Use it to make her stronger, so that that fate would never be repeated for her. Her only concern presently was defending what was hers..

Leaning just a little closer into Salem's side, both of Razielle's dark brows lifted in curious expectation. She was truly interested to hear what it was that Baska wanted out of their association.

[Baska Tankreyd]

Baska hadn't expected to be in such a situation as toasting to new alliances with Salem and Razielle. It was a fairly surprising development in her life; but one she was grateful for. She still felt like a lone wolf for the most part, for it had been her lot in life for most of it, from being thrown into the streets when a young adolescent, to losing Denart and their child, and then relentless training under her late master's tutelage. She was used to do things by and for herself. The fact that she had so freely given to Razielle, because she had felt the Force bring them together was a strong testimony to what was developing between both women.

She noted how Razielle took a mere sip, which made sense given her condition. The Sith Master would keep her word to protect that child from threats. It was a weird feeling; but it made sense to her. She was intrigued by the dark connection she was developing with the pregnant woman; and she was looking forward to wherever it might lead.

Salem's question brought her pause though. She hadn't expected it. She wasn't altruist by nature, unless it was someone she respected and cherished, but few were still alive or earned her respect and affection as such.

"I don't have an answer to that," she honestly said.

There was no trickery or duplicity in her words. She had been on her own for so long, and quite successful at achieving what she set her mind to, that receiving wasn't something she was used to anymore.

She looked at Razielle, unafraid to be honest, for both women had seen into the pit of each other's souls at this point.

"The only desire I have that I can't achieve by myself is beyond anyone's reach really, so I am unsure what else I may ask from you."

[Salem Ave]

With complete command of the Consortium, as well as an influential hand in the Alliance Senate, there was not a lot that was beyond the reach of House Alastor. It was either a testament to Baska’s self sufficiency, or an indication of their divergent ways of life, that she could think of no boon to request.

“There’s no need to answer right away. I’m sure that something will come to you, in time.”

When Razielle leaned in closer to him, Salem’s palm skimmed up her bare back and came to rest between her shoulders, his claws curled against the back of her neck.

“If nothing else, there is a lot we can learn from one another.”

[Razielle Alastor]

Razielle met Baska's eyes, knowing and understanding what she saw there. There were some things that could not be given. Perhaps, in time something might occur for her that they could be of assistance with. It did not need to be decided right now.

Before she could give voice to her thoughts, Salem was already speaking them. Shifting her gaze back to him, she nodded once in silent agreement. Leaving the door open to Baska's choice kept her around longer. "We'll find something.."

Although Razielle did not move, to say she did not react would have been inaccurate. There was no stopping the instant trail of tiny bumps that arose in a tingling line up her spine, following Salem's touch. And she chose not to stop the impulse to lean backward a bit. This she had earned, after years of waiting, maybe sometimes not so patiently, they could be together. And by all the gods she was going to enjoy it..

Looking back to Baska, she pondered how best to engage her desire to stay. The buried bit of trauma in Baska made her dangerous, but not necessarily to the wrong people. It was the unrelenting force of a vengeful, destructive, mother goddess.. and if she could, Razielle would direct that force toward protecting her own children.

"You should meet the Queen Mother.."

[Baska Tankreyd]

Baska appreciated that Salem and Razielle understood her response. "Knowing us, I wouldn't be surprised," she quipped with a dark gleam in her bright eyes. They were resourceful, and while they all wielded immense power in different ways, it was unlikely for anyone not to eventually want something more, or different.

She canted her head to the side at Salem's remark about them learning from one another. She took another sip from her drink, leaning a little more comfortably into her seat, crossing her legs beneath the fabric of her crimson gown. The sea breeze made her enjoy the outdoors all the more. She was still getting used to how night was a foreign concept on Hapes; but she nevertheless appreciated the different setting.

"I believe so. It has been a while since I got the opportunity to learn from other living beings," she admitted.

She liked challenges. The more dangerous and excruciating, the better, she mused. And the couple before her could provide that.

Razielle's words made her smile warmly, a rare expression on the Sith Master's face. "It would be my honor to meet her."

[Salem Ave]

“The dead are rarely the best teachers,” Salem mused, as he thought back to his time on Onderon, back to Dxun and the ancient Sith that haunted the so-called Demon Moon. He thought too of his first master, the Jedi whose ghost had lingered on years after her death, a malignant spirit hell-bent on poisoning the minds of her former pupils. It had been decades since he’d had a master of his own, and though he did not lament that fact, it would have been folly to dismiss the chance to unlock some secret of the Force that had previously escaped his notice.

At the mention of the Queen Mother, Salem took one of Razielle’s hands in his own and squeezed. Stretching his senses outwards through the Force, he found his daughter. Beatrix was with Lira Terranova, and one of her tutors, in another part of the fortress. Half a dozen Chume’doro were standing on watch, close by. One of them blinked and when her eyes opened, they were pure white.

“Ta’din,” she said, Salem speaking through her as she took a step forward. “Ta’a Chume’s presence is requested.”

The guardswoman held out an armoured hand, gesturing the way, while back on the veranda, Salem took a sip of his drink.

“She’s on her way.”

[Razielle Alastor]

From her contented place upon the couch, Razielle did wonder at Baska's words regarding living beings. Followed immediately by Salem's about the dead not being the best teachers. For herself, her only experience with the spirit world had been on Onderon, Fortress Kira. Hers had been the only footsteps in an age that had delved to where she had dared, and yet she had never been alone. Oppressive, old impressions haunted those stones. If they had anything worthwhile to impart, that time at least they had remained silent. The ancestors of Adraudia Basillie had hovered, but not interfered with her work. The other dark spirits that had risen up around her had been even less useful, but if it had all been in aid of where she sat today, then it had been worth it..

When her fingers were squeezed, Razielle gave a sidelong glance toward Salem. Feeling the charged space around him as he found Beatrix within this Fortress, if indeed the palatial Reef Fortress could be compared to the ancient ruin on Onderon.

"Then you must..", Razielle concurred with Baska's agreement to meet their daughter.

Being manipulative with whoever she needed to was not something that would make Razielle lose a moment of her sated sleep. Was it manipulation? To place their daughter, ereneda, in the path of this.. childless mother, in the hopes that Baska might be charmed enough by Beatrix to stay, and by so doing strengthen House Alastor. Or was it prudence?

[Lira Terranova]

"It does not have a brain, Ereneda.." Lira explained patiently to her little queen. "I am not sure it could understand, even you, Your Majesty."

The subject of carnivorous seaweed inevitably came up on every visit to the Reef Fotresss, and sometimes just because at bed time.

"All it knows how to do is eat." The tutor confirmed, not for the first time.

Beatrix did not seem appeased with their answers this time anymore than she had on their previous attempts.

Lira looked up as the guard spoke to her. For a moment she was quite frozen before collecting herself and snapping to. Dealing with the peculiar was daily business in the service of House Alastor. Keeping her blue eyes on the white ones, Ta'din Terranova nodded her understanding.

"Come along, Majesty.. I think you are getting let out of your evening lessons for a grown up visit."

[Beatrix]

Beatrix understood that all the seaweed knew was eating. She still had questions. She still wanted to get closer to one, but everyone seemed to want to tell her that she did not really want to do the thing she wanted to do. Even Lira who was most reasonable about anything Beatrix wanted to do.

This would change when she was older, Beatrix knew. She could be patient. She could wait..

When the guard spoke, Beatrix was already swinging her little legs out from under the table. "I know.", she said, already walking, knowing that Lira would follow. Lira was always there.

The Queen Mother, Ta'din Terranova and the escort of Chume'doro moved through the Fortress, to the veranda where Beatrix's parents, and their guest waited. After Beatrix was announced, it was Lira who stopped the procession at the glass Hapan doors leading outside. Her parents, the Lord Protector and the Chume's mother, her vessel of perfection, were in sight. Beatrix was free to go to them, as requested.

From the doors, Lira dipped into a curtsy toward the Royal family before discreetly disappearing, while remaining close enough to appear if they so much as thought about needing her.

Queen Beatrix, in a comfortable white sun dress with fresh flowers pinned in her dark hair, proceeded into the adult company. She glanced toward the unfamiliar woman, the obvious reason that she had been called here by her father. She was not dumb. They wanted her to meet her. Stopping before the couch her parents shared, Beatrix looked to the lady again, quietly curious.

[Baska Tankreyd]

Baska nodded to Salem's observation about the deceased not being the best teachers. She believed in thoroughly investigating history, as her collection of Sith artifacts and tomes in the vaults of her residence on Iego proved it. Yet, most of it she had figured out by her own research, and some of it from discussions with her late master. It didn't replace being able to actively learn others who still walked this galaxy in their corporeal form.

She smiled to Razielle's eager words regarding the queen. The Sith Master had believed she would eventually meet the brunette's first born; but not necessarily that early on. Regardless of the reason, she was glad for this to happen. The bond they had developed already since their first encounter as Mokosh and Anxia had only deepened, as they assaulted each other physically and mentally, pushing and prodding in the confines of their respective minds.

Baska knew not what the future would bring to the gathered trio; but she couldn't deny the pull she had felt towards them, and by extension to Hapes. It was unexpected, for the blonde had been a lone agent for so many years, living on the fringe both as a bounty hunter and as Sith. The idea of orbiting closer to a much more organized circle was surprising to her; but she felt that the darkness was unraveling its plans and the currents of energy viscerally pulling them towards one another was undeniable.

When the procession surrounding the young queen came closer, Baska's eyes traveled to them, easily resting on the child whose intense gaze and presence was a testimony to her lineage. The girl's physique was a fair reminder of her mother's features, but there was something in the attitude, in the piercing expression that couldn't help but remind her of a younger Salem. She spared a brief look towards the couple sitting nearby, keeping her thoughts to herself.

Under other circumstances, the blonde's demeanor would have been different and much more formal, but she opted for simple but genuine respect. She understood the importance of theatrics and protocol; but she also knew too well how they didn't replace genuine respect.

Her intense blue eyes still fastened upon the child that walked closer to them, obviously and rightfully aware of her position, Baska bowed her head to her. "Queen Beatrix, it is a pleasure to meet you. I am Baska Tankreyd." For now she offered no further specifics, although the way the Force was pulsating strongly between the four of them was fairly obvious about the present power. ebbing and swirling in the veranda.

[Beatrix]

The Queen Regent looked on her daughter with an indulgent eye, but she did glance down with one brow raised in question at the girl's bare feet.

Beatrix looked down at her own feet, wiggling her toes as thought hey were waving back, but said nothing about it. She did not smile, but she did poke her little toes beneath the hem of her mother's dress, lightly stepping on Razielle's own toes, equally bare, apart from the fanciful silver rings adorning them. Effectively, Beatrix had said 'Where do you think I learned this, hmm?' to her intimidating mother, without a word. Razielle's toes, in their silvers rings, poked back at her daughter with a small twisting of her lips. She could be clever later, right now they needed her to be.. just herself.

She glanced from her parents, back to their guest, who introduced herself as Baska Tankreyd. Knowing that they would never have brought her somewhere unsafe, she was unafraid as she approached the lady. Coming to a stop just before her, the little queen tilted her head at a watchful angle, before reaching up and pulling loose one of the flowers from her hair. Moving even closer to Baska so that she was practically against her legs, Beatrix had a look that spoke of concern, even on a face as young as hers. Quietly, so that her words at least seemed like they were only for Baska, she spoke.

"Are you...very sad Ta'din Baska?", she asked, reaching up to tuck the blossom into the lady's blonde hair, behind her ear.

[Baska Tankreyd]

Baska observed the interaction between mother and daughter, a pang of sorrow passing through her soul for a brief moment. Surprisingly this fleeting emotion led Baska not only towards her lost daughter, but towards her lost mother as well. While she had never had confirmation her mother was dead, she still couldn't fathom why she would have vanished unless tragedy had occurred. Her early and scattered memories of Inkeri Tankreyd didn't make her a fickle woman at all. And her father in the few years before his own premature death had said little about his lost wife, but it had always supported Baska's impression of her.

Her attention still upon the young queen, she watched the child approaching her, noting how safe she must feel at the moment, including with her. It was interesting to observe her approach unafraid. And these piercing eyes were the soul-searching kind for sure. She didn't move as the young girl stopped right before her, having no issue with the proximity. From most other strangers, it would have been a trespassed boundary that would have brought consequences; but Baska didn't feel that Beatrix was pushing boundaries at the moment. She was actually grateful she was comfortable around her upon first meeting. Of course the fortress was safe, and she was in the presence of her parents, but Baska knew that it didn't necessarily mean that the young brunette would be at such ease in her presence.

The blonde smiled warmly as Beatrix placed one of the flowers she had just worn into her blonde locks. The darkness worked in mysterious ways, including by scattered flash of lights to contrast with abysses of despair and anger. The look of concern in such a young child's eyes spoke volumes of the powerful lineage coursing through her veins.

Baska's expression turned serious again at the unexpected question. "I often am, Ereneda," she replied in earnest, before a small and a genuine smile curved her lips anew. "But, not right now."

[Beatrix]

Beatrix nodded when Ta'din Baska said that she was often sad. She could feel that. Sadness was not an emotion that Beatrix often, if ever, felt herself. Other people did though. It was different and not always with them. Sometimes they carried it close, tucked away inside. Other times.. it affected her, and she knew what it felt like to be so sad, even if the sadness was not hers. Baska's sadness was tucked close to her, but Beatrix could tell it was there.

"That is good." Beatrix stepped back, admiring the flower in Baska's hair, and finally at long last smiling just a little.

"You speak Hapan well, Ta'din. Have you visited the Cluster before?" Beatrix wondered.

The sea breeze teased at her unbound hair, blowing through the length and pulling loose some of the other flowers.

[Baska Tankreyd]

Baska wasn't surprised that Beatrix's presence already felt strong in the Force. It would have been a shame if she hadn't really. Force sensitives emerged out of the blue in certain lines, as she was living proof; but with parents as Beatrix had, it made sense she had inherited their gift.

The blonde kept her eyes upon the little girl, finding her quiet fierceness a good omen for the years to come.

She bowed her head at the compliment. "Thank you, Ereneda. I have been studying it for a while." She spoke several languages, including ancient ones such as Sith dialects. So picking Hapan up had been easier than expected, although she knew she still had extensive room to improve, especially with her new alliances calling her to the Cluster more often now.

"It is my first time in the Cluster, but not the last," she added with a smile until something hit her out of the blue. Her expression betrayed her shock as memories came flooding back to her.

She had heard Hapan terms in the past. Scant memories of her mother resurfaced, with greater clarity. Her mother had spoken Hapan to her at some point.

She looked at Razielle and Salem for a moment, before returning her attention to Beatrix.

"What you just said.... It helped me remember something from when I was even younger than you are."

[Salem Ave]

Salem observed the interaction between his daughter and Baska in silence, watching the subtle play of emotions across Baska’s face in response to the young monarch’s earnest interest in her.

Though it was still light, it wouldn’t be long before the young Chume was ushered off to bed.

“Would you like to sit with us for a while, Beatrix?”

[Beatrix]

Beatrix was enjoying meeting someone new. She had spoken the truth, Ta'din Baska spoke Hapan well, but like her mother and Lira, she had just enough of an accent to tell it was not her primary language. She was still watching the blonde when her expression changed, her eyes lost their focus on her just for a second as her mind was drawn to something else. Something that seemed to shock her. Baska looked to her parents, and back to her to confirm it.

The Queen Mother smiled in a patient manner, as though she had done what she had come to do.

"This pleases me. I hope it was a memory that makes you happy, ta'din.."

At her father's voice, Beatrix pulled her eyes from Baska's, turning her head to nod.

Padding barefoot, back the way she had come, Beatrix crossed to the couch where her parents sat.

[Razielle Alastor]

While Beatrix had spoken with Baska, Razielle had watched in rapt attention from her place on the couch. With one hand on Salem's knee, her fingers rested just on the inside of his thigh. Their daughter had always been destined to be special, but the extent of what she could become was limitless now that Salem was actively teaching her. It was fascinating to behold, as Beatrix blossomed into her powers like one of her beautiful exotic flowers.

Now that she knew the truth about who her father really was, Beatrix seemed to share her mother's affinity for making Salem proud. When she approached, the little queen's barely contained smile was all for her father.

Making room for the only person that she would ever allow to come between them, Razielle helped settle their daughter in the small spot, dropping a kiss to the top of her head, breathing in the flowery scent of her hair, and the scent that was just uniquely Beatrix. Most Cherished One, was what Lira usually called her. And it was true, in all of the Sixty-three systems of the Hapes Cluster, she was the most important, most protected, most beloved child of them all.

[Baska Tankreyd]

Baska watched the interaction between Beatrix and her parents. It was strange to the blonde that given her own history, she was finding some unexpected solace in this family's presence. She didn't ponder on it at further lengths though, for the resurfaced memory was enough to grab her attention, besides enjoying the present company.

"It is a pleasant one, Ereneda," she replied in earnest.

She looked at Razielle and Salem then, deciding to share what it was, for she saw no reason to play the mysterious card. She always chose wisely what to reveal and what not to, but given how much Razielle and her unraveled from each other's soul, it was just something else to add.

"The first person who ever spoke Hapan to me was my mother, when I was very little, before she disappeared. I had forgotten that until I met Lady Beatrix."

[Salem Ave]

Salem gave Beatrix a small smile as the young Chume settled into the space between her parents. As the Lord Protector looked back across at Baska, Beatrix’s hand found his, her small fingers curling around his larger claws.

"It’s rare for non-Hapans to speak the language. Your mother must have spent some time in the Cluster."

[Beatrix]

It was kind of like a treat, staying up late, talking with the adults. Sat between her parents, Beatrix pulled her father's hand closer to her, playing with his claws absently while she listened to what they were saying. Discussing Baska's mother, and why perhaps, she spoke Hapan?

She frowned when Baska said her mother had disappeared. Looking up from her father's claws, she glanced sidelong at her own mother, not able to imagine life without her presence in it. She remembered what her father had told her, about his parents sending him to live with the Jedi (https://theholo.net/forum/showthread.php?57560-A-Royal-Education&p=1063752&viewfull=1#post1063752). Her fingers tightened around Salem's claws, turning her face back to his, meeting his eyes.

"Dukana Tankreyd of Sivoria sent me many of my favorite flowers growing in my garden from her gardens.", she mentioned conversationally to her father.

Peeking back across at Baska, Beatrix looked optimistic. "It might be that she knows your mother, ta'din?"

[Razielle Alastor]

Razielle had been righting one of the flowers in her daughter's hair, working the now bent stem back into a golden clip. Once done, she sifted her fingers through Bea's wind-blown curls, pausing..at what she was saying. The words fell innocently from the little monarch's lips, oblivious to the potential importance of what she had said. Simply making the obvious correlation to a familiar name that she happened to make a personal connection to. Surely that had to be something more than coincidence.

She lifted her eyes to Salem first, over the top of their daughter's head, nodding. It was true. Razielle had gotten her own hands dirty in the creation of that garden. To accomplish it had required help. Some from Sivoria. Occasionally new specimens continued to be sent for the Chume's pleasure. After passing a thorough inspection, directed by the Chume'doro, of course. Beatrix looked forward to the surprise of their arrival.

"How clever you are, my darling. We will find out at once."

Her gaze drifted, curious, toward Baska to see how she had taken the artless revelation.

[Baska Tankreyd]

What followed baffled Baska to brand new levels. The deep affliction that her mother's disappearance had been three decades ago had left the first of many scars in her soul. She barely had time to acknowledge Salem's words that Beatrix spoke of a Dukana Tankreyd. The shock on her face was only mirrored by the tremor that rippled from her through the Force.

She was struck silent, a most remarkable feat to accomplish, in which the young queen might find pride, even though it seemed not to be the purpose. The connection was made naturally by the brunette monarch.

Even if this was true, which was an uncanny option, she didn't understand how there could be a Tankreyd of any line in the Cluster. She was certain that her mother had taken her father's name upon nuptials, as her cousin Alienor Tankreyd was proof of. Baska knew her parents had loved each other deeply, with a fierceness that had been crushed the day her mother had left. The statuesque blonde only had scant memories of the unraveling events; but she was certain their bond hadn't been one meant to be broken. Whatever the reason, it must have been of the utmost importance.

Would her mother had for some reason renamed a house she belonged to? Baska knew not whether such things were even normal in the Cluster.

Realizing she had been at a loss of words for a while, she looked at her hosts.

"What is the first name of this Dukana Tankreyd, Ereneda?"

Coincidences weren't what common mortal took them to be. Beatrix's answer would likely prove it. While Baska didn't want to set her hopes up, she was nevertheless aware that the Force had been a consistence albeit surprising pulling drive to bring her to the Consortium.

[Salem Ave]

There was a twitch between Salem’s brows for a moment, a wrinkle that he was quick to smooth away into a smile when his daughter looked up at him, all innocence. There was no doubting where she had inherited that guileless expression from. Knowledge of her people, of her planets and the women who governed over them in her name, was an important part of the young Chume's education, a part that her tutors had clearly worked dilligently on.

“Do you remember the Dukana’s name, Beatrix?” he asked, already knowing the answer.

[Beatrix]

There was a hint of mischief playing about the mouth of the little queen. She knew something, and they did not. This was not a position she often found herself in, and it was just a little tempting to see what she could do with it. In the end the carefully restrained question from Baska, accompanied by the look from her father, prompted her response. It was obviously important.

Beatrix answered as though she were reciting her knowledge to one of her tutors. "Ducha Vahika W'lady governs the Sivoria System. The second most prominent House of Sivoria is that of Dukana.. Inkeri Tankreyd."

Her own gem-like eyes swung pointedly back to the blonde woman, to see for herself if the name provoked a reaction from Baska.

[Razielle Alastor]

Razielle did not need to encourage Beatrix into cooperation. She was pampered, strong and willful, but she was also intelligent and empathetic to her surroundings. She spoke in her own time, and when she did, Razielle too glanced in Baska's direction to gauge her response to the name. Although, she sensed there was no need. Something about the whole thing felt tangible in the space around them. As though the answers were floating right there, stirred up by the will of the Chume, waiting to be claimed.

[Baska Tankreyd]

On an instinctive level, Baska took in the interactions between parents and daughter; but the maelstrom collided into a single point of focus the moment the young queen spoke the name of Dukana Tankreyd. Scattered memories from her childhood, dreams and nightmares of years gone by, visions that had required piecing together, wreaked havoc in her mind for the briefest of moments before everything stood still as she stared at the monarch.

Her shock rippled through the Force, its dark currents of realization differing from the battle between Razielle and her earlier that day, but nonetheless potent. Shock and relief blended with the utmost vigor as the unexpected hit her straight into the soul.

"Inkeri Tankreyd is my mother."

Besides the unlikeliness of another Inkeri Tankreyd roaming the galaxy, especially in the Consortium, the Sith Master knew without the shadow of a doubt, that by whatever fated path, she was half-Hapan, and her mother had carried the remnants of her Tanaab past.

[Beatrix]

The moment she said the name something... Not something. The Force. Keeping the the analogy of it's presence around her as being like water, the name made sort of asplash. Like when she found a heavy stone on the beach and threw it into the sea. It hit with one big drop, but the impact made it's own waves for a while. That was what the name Inkeri had done. A plop, and then the ripples in the Force. It felt different from other times she had felt the Force around her. Maybe a little too strong. Maybe a little too raw. Whatever it was, Beatrix scooted closer to her father, her little face almost tucked into his side.

The feeling changed.

It was not sad. It was not the tension that came from leaving someone waiting for an answer. It was still raw, but now it was raw with something exciting. Something that almost made Beatrix want to get up and grab Baska's hand - so they could find the next shuttle to Sivoria, run after the Dukana, tell her the news.. Baska said that Dukana Tankreyd was her mother, and when she did, her whole self changed a little.

Beatrix remained snuggled against her father all the same.