Ask A History of Blood

[Sybella Demici]

Theme​

Stepping into the magnificent museum, wonder and curiosity immediately enveloped Sybella, heir apparent to the House of Demici. The grand entrance hall, adorned with towering marble columns and intricate carvings, set quite the stage for the extraordinary journey that lay ahead. Soft, warm lighting illuminated the expansive space, casting a gentle glow on the artefacts and exhibits that awaited exploration. Her suitor had done well, choosing such a location for a courting rendezvous. If anything, he might have done himself an injustice, as much of Sybella's attention was now fixed on the museum's displays. The exhibits were organized in a meticulous fashion, with different sections each dedicated to a particular aspect of alien history, culture, and art. Forgoing her usual colourful robes, the lady Jedi dressed in garbs befitting her peerage; she still wore her family's colours of red and blue, but in more subtle tones. Her mother, desperate for a love match, always pushed for the bolder of dress but Sybella was adamant less was sometimes more. The ancestral coins, usually worn as a headdress, now adorned her slender neck in the style of a multi-layered choker. A few were also affixed as dangling earrings.

There were artefacts from long-lost civilizations, their forms and materials hinting at the enigmatic worlds they originated from. Strange, ornate sculptures also lined the corridors, showcasing the intricacy and otherworldly beauty of alien craftsmanship. Holographic projections were also in use, their beams of light depicting images of grand interstellar empires, their rise and fall, and their contributions to the cosmos. Some galleries were more developed than others, going so far as to showcase the evolution of one alien race's technology; the Jedi was rather fascinated with all, especially the primitive navigation systems used to determine celestial pathways. In another wing, vibrant murals and interactive displays showcased the rich and diverse cultures of other alien civilizations. Sybella marvelled at the intricate patterns and vivid colours that tell stories of mythical creatures, cosmic phenomena, and profound philosophical concepts. The art seemed to transcend conventional forms, incorporating multidimensional perspectives and harmonic proportions that elicit a profound sense of harmony and balance. The museum also boasted an auditorium where lectures and presentations by renowned alien historians, anthropologists, and artists took place. Visitors were encouraged to immerse themselves in thought-provoking discussions and gain new insights into the mysteries of the cosmos.

Tempted to take part herself, the lady knight found herself stopping short at an offshoot exhibition. It was far removed from the other, more prominent displays and in terms of signage, there was little on offer. Still, Sybella was stunned. The exhibit was clearly marked under the moniker of the 'The Old Sith Empire'.

"Surely not..." Had the curators really dedicated an exhibit to the Sith fraction? It was as ludicrous to her as it was offensive. Mindful of the fact she was still in the company of her inamorato, Sybella sought to skillfully deflect his presence (if only for a moment.). "You know, I'm awfully parched. Would you be a dear and..."

She needn't say more. Light on his feet, her admirer had set off post haste on a mission to procure her a flute. Sweet man, tedious as he was. Finally, alone, the Jedi braved the rather eerie exhibit.

Admittedly, she was rather surprised. It was not the history of the Sith Order that was on display, but rather a sentient race known as the Sith. Purebloods, to be precise. Red-skinned humanoids that evolved from the planet of Korriban. How peculiar, she thought. Despite her rather extensive knowledge, Sybella hadn't actually been really aware of the Sith and their origins. Now that she thought about it, there were certainly some parallels to the Mandalorians and their ancestral links to the Taung people. Setting further within the exhibit and its confines, the Jedi took her time drinking in the (rather limited) displays. There were others present in the gallery as well; a Togruta male, purple in colour, was reading a plaque aloud - his tone, however, was less than humble.

"If it has blood, you can make it bleed. If it has eyes, you can blind it. If it has a mouth, you can make it scream…" The transcription had been found on a weapon, something labelled as a Massassi lanvarok. "Ghastly. Utterly barbaric. If you ask me, some civilisations ought to die out."

Despite her allegiance to the Light, Sybella wasn't quick to agree. Rebuking him with only a look, the Jedi chose instead to continue her exploration.

@Sreeya
@Azar Kressh

 

[Darth Raze]

He had learned to hide in plain sight from all the time he spent within Emryc Thorne’s psyche. It was still a process, but he was slowly understanding how to exist as his own person instead of the powerful half Sephi the entire galaxy recognized. It was refreshing to be able to go wherever he pleased without people swarming him. He knew more peace now than he ever did as Emryc Thorne. And above all, he was no longer imprisoned.

The wraith had arrived at this particular museum to regard the artifacts that were thought to be lost to time. These pathetic civilians didn’t understand the value of each blade or weapon here. It had been touched with memory, with darkness that still manifested and lingered like an intoxicating aroma. It drew him out like a hound. He could manipulate the mind of anyone here and get his way, but first he wanted to see it for himself.

By the time the Jedi broke away towards the Sith Empire section, she would find a man slightly off in the corner staring at a framed scroll on the wall. To curators it was just another curious bit of old parchment with unintelligible Ancient Sith writing. To him, it was a recipe for alchemy - one of several pieces he searched across the galaxy.

The Togruta’s voice was grating, and he almost felt the phantom twitch of his ears before remembering he was Anzat now and not Sephi. He was adorned in formal attire, a leftover habit from being Emryc Thorne. He had pallid features and crimson eyes, but none of his traits were unusual for his race.

“I suggest you leave,” He stated flatly to the Togruta. He didn’t look at him initially, but he slowly turned to do just that. There was nothing malicious about the way he gazed at the man, but the Togruta grimaced and shuffled away angrily muttering under his breath.

"Some people need more than just a gaze, Lady Demici," He said calmly before turning to regard her, offering a smile.

@HoneyMagpie

 

[Sybella Demici]

Marking the departure of the Togruta with nothing more than a sideways glance, Sybella's focus briefly shifted back to the display currently situated in front of her. Mangled remains of golden adornments were laid out over the outline of a supposed Sith Pureblood. She wondered how accurate the depiction was. The tone of the plaque implied the red-skinned race was almost as good as extinct, but there had been (supposedly) some sporadic sightings.

Breaking away from the displays, the heiress gave an amenable nod of the head. "I must say, I'm inclined to agree..."

In her youth, Sybella might have partially acceded to such a radical way of thinking, especially when it came to the modern-day Sith Empire. Despite her best efforts, she was somewhat intemperate when it came to the Jedi dogma. Luckily, experience and time had begun to mitigate such a mindset; as frustrating as it was, sometimes not everything in the galaxy could be so easily painted black and white.

"Now it appears you have me at a disadvantage." He knew her, well enough at least to acknowledge her by her family name and title. Not surprising though, given her prolific return to Serenno's social circles. "How may I address you?"

One of the first things that struck Sybella was the stranger's height; standing closer to him, she could see how easily his stature dwarfed hers. The man was almost as tall as a massassi carving. His eyes were also an astonishing red. No, he was most definitely foreign to her, otherwise, the lady Jedi would have remembered meeting him. Custom dedicated she offer him her hand, if only in greeting but for the moment least, Sybella made no such gesture. Though she couldn't as of yet determine his exact species, she didn't want to impose upon him such rigid courtly manners.

If he did, however, wish to entreat her then she would oblige with no qualms.

 

[Darth Raze]

He did know Serrenian customs and gently grasped her hand to press his lips against it before releasing. His skin was cool to touch, but otherwise there wasn’t anything unusual about him. The galaxy had billions of different races and it wasn’t strange to spot humanoids with different skin tones or eyes.

“Alistair Winchester,” He said calmly. The name would ring a bell - news about him protecting Serennians nobles from a rogue Sith spread like wildefire. If she had been home recently, she would be familiar and now have a face to put to the story. He, of course, mentioned nothing of it, “I’m no stranger to Serenno, though I’m new in the noble circles,” He said with an almost sheepish smile.

His gaze was drawn away and towards the depiction of the pureblood’s death. He knew for a fact they were not extinct - he had been on Korriban to snatch the crown of a pureblood King to give it to Darth Malicia decades ago. He could vividly recall the drums of war, the smell of blood and sweat, the hot sand under his feet and dueling with Sith forged blades. He could remember donning the ancient garbs of kings past and standing on the precipice of his destiny as a ruler. It had all been snatched away like any legacy he had sought to carve out for himself. Emryc Thorne’s desires always came first. Not anymore, “Not many visitors come to this section. What drew you here?” He asked curiously, his face revealing none of his visit through the annals of his story.

@HoneyMagpie

 

[Sybella Demici]

Realisation finally settled in. So this was the famous hero of Serenno - Alistair Winchester. Sybella really was out of touch; if her mother were here, she would have surely scolded her daughter for such ignorance. Nobles at the recent gala had regaled her with tales, orating the man's grand exploits. It was a shame she had not met him sooner but at least the two could share in this moment, however fleeting it may be.

Paying Alistair a subtle obeisance, the lady Jedi returned his smile with one of her own. "You did Serenno a great service. It is an honour to finally make your acquaintance."

Once again, the exhibit and its display stole Sybella's attention. There was an effigy of sorts, perhaps depicting a long-dead king. The mask that accompanied it was horribly tarnished; scorched marks marred its entire left side. Despite the extensive damage, the mutilation felt...purposeful. Other galleries showcased breathtaking beautiful armour, polished to perfection. The irony. Attire for war, yet never once bloodied. From the looks of it though, the Old Sith didn't entertain such frivolity. A blade, sporting a terentatek's tusk as a hilt was but one of many examples.

Sybella pondered Alistair's question. At first, the answer seemed so obvious. "One could say morbid curiosity." She was a Jedi, after all. Her return from exile had confirmed as much, despite much societal speculation. Knowing one's enemy was but the first step in defeating them.

"But that would be a lie."

A holoprojector displayed a timeline of sorts, following the Old Empire's known chronological events. In the beginning, it seemed like the Sith were in a constant state of war, fighting amongst themselves in tribal disputes. Artistic renditions depicted a life of that encapsulated barbarism, as well as hedonism. There was a caste system as well to consider. Unification happened, heralding what had now become known as the 'Golden Age of the Sith'. Then it came. The Great Hyperspace War and the onslaught that followed. Both the Jedi and the Republic had a hand in the near desolation of the entire Sith civilisation.

"I had no knowledge of this..." She finally admitted. The fraction that exists today, in opposition to her own Order, spawned from these origins. But the Jedi never taught her any of this. Then again, she never asked.

Looking at Alistair once more, Sybella seemed equally inquisitive. "And you? An admirer of history, perhaps?"

 

[Darth Raze]

He followed her line of sight as she read about the Jedi exterminating the Sith civilization. It was no surprise that the Jedi, and the general public, were not taught the uglier truths about their history. After all, Sith in the modern sense could not have existed without the Jedi. Temptation to darkness could only be possible if such things were considered forbidden. To be Jedi was to deny humanity and basic traits that were inherently there. To be Jedi was to consider oneself a flawed mistake in need of a lifetime of correction. For Raze, he manifested as everything he pleased to be and his energies were focused on refining and improving, not trying to change himself.

“I suppose that would be correct,” He mused aloud. Even as Emryc, he had been an admirer of history. He had collected artifacts, books, tomes and trinkets from all across the galaxy. He held things that were created and worn by ancient Sith Lords. He even had a Holocron that once belonged to a great Jedi Grandmaster. His hunger for knowledge knew no bounds. The Pureblood and their ancient skills with alchemy - most of which was inherent skill - fascinated him.

“There are always multiple sides to history,” Raze explained, “All wars begin with the respective side believing in their cause. If the Force is a thing of balance, it allows the Dark to exist just as it does the Light. Both warrant study and respect to appreciate the complexities of the Force,” He spoke as his gaze remained on the display.

“Are you displeased with what you have discovered here?” He asked as he finally turned to look at her. His eyes had an unsettling intelligence in them that spoke more than words ever would. This was perhaps the longest he had bothered to hold a conversation with someone. He found it more pleasing than simply bending others to his will. Was this why Emryc had chosen a life of politics?

@HoneyMagpie

 

[Sybella Demici]

It appeared Alistair fancied himself both a historian and a philosopher; his knowledge of the Force, and its facets, was quite comprehensive. This didn’t entirely surprise Sybella. Those not affiliated with the Force still debated it; scholars and theorists alike. Still, to study the Dark and the Light? A dangerous way of thinking; the Jedi of Old would have never accepted such notions. Then again, hadn’t Sybella’s own ancestor (Lady Lujayn) perused such prospects? Her thirst for knowledge was prolific enough to send her into the service of the infamous Count Dooku.

A tattered Kissai robe, hanging on display, looked eerily familiar. Being a subspecies of the ancient Sith race, the Kissai served as priests within the Pureblood caste system; they studied the nature of the dark side itself, and went so far as to practice ancient alchemy. Much to her shame, Sybella’s disgraced forebearer had done everything in her power to emulate the Kissai - even to the point of dressing like them and adopting their accursed language.

Frowning, more to herself than anything else, the heiress stepped away from that particular section. She chose instead to look a small specimen jar that was fortified with thick class. There was something in the liquid solution, the petrified remains of a creature. Reading the brief explanation, it was believed to be the result of a failed experiment; bio-genetic engineering gone wrong. Perishing in the early started of develop, the serpentine like larva had yet to form neither limbs nor eyes. What would this monsterity have become, if given the chance to grow and thrive?

Alistair had asked if she felt displeasure with the day’s revelations. “Of course.” She admitted, “As a Jedi myself, am I not an inheritor of this legacy? From its greatest feats, to the lowest of faults. As you said, history has many sides - I see it as my duty to acknowledge each and every one, regardless of my own thoughts and feelings.”

The Order had gone through its fair share of change; over numerous generations, they endured multiple metamorphoses, their values and beliefs shifting with revision. During one age, the Jedi were peacekeepers, yet in another, they became more militant. Modern day knights and masters would do well to remember the ancestral past, as well as heed the history of bygone figures.

“If I were to do something truly abhorrent, for the sake of the greater good, where on history’s spectrum would I fall?” She said all this, whilst gesturing back at the holographic timeline. “Recently, I have come to understand that the concepts of Light and Darkness are much like ‘good’ and ‘evil’. They are not entirely feasible. The worst atrocities ever known were often conceived with nothing but the best of intentions.”

Had she served the Jedi during that ancient era, she would have no doubt been remembered as a hero of legend, despite it meaning she would have also been complicit in the slaughter of an entire species.

“I suppose it’s all rather subjective, isn’t it? One person’s wrong is another person’s right.”

Unknown to her, Sybella had started walking rather aimlessly amongst the exhibit, her thoughts occupaying her mind more than the need to travel in any particular direction. Realisation this, she came to a halt in front a small podium. On display was a crystal. A red kyber crystal. Surprising, given their value but from the looks of it, the jewel had long since been bled of life. A deep crack also ran down its centre, causing the crystal to become split at the core. Still, it was certainly captivating enough, with its scarlet hues. Despite its dormancy, the depths of its colour were still very deep. Looking up from the crystal, the Jedi became aware that Alistair’s position was opposite to hers. The gem stood between them and nothing else.

Silently, Sybella mused at the similarities. Her acqustiance’s eyes were very much the same colour as the kyber crystal. They certain held some weight, those ruby-red orbs. Though he appeared in the prime of life, the heiress felt Alistair was older than he appeared; again, it wasn’t at all concerting given the variety of humanoid. Still, she was curious, not yet able to determine his species or planet of origin.

Finally, the lady Jedi decided to direct he gaze somewhere else. How rude it was of her to gawk like that. “Please, pardon my impertinence. I meant no offense.”

 

[Darth Raze]

“It is a burden to carry, but one you choose to carry, not one that is thrust upon you,” Raze mused aloud in response to her vocalizing the dilemma of legacy inheritance, “The Jedi tend to adopt their doctrines as the foundation of their core being. And therein lies the fallacy of building a house of cards that ultimately collapses to create that which the galaxy regards as an abhorrence. It is a self fulfilling prophecy. Darkness is never thrust upon anyone. It is invited.”

The galaxy had beckoned for him. The Force had called for his existence and for him to take corporeal form. He had his role to play in the galaxy just as anyone else did, good or bad. He remained silent on her theory on the sides of the Force related to extremes of good and evil, “History is written by the victors,” Raze reminded her. Good or evil didn’t matter in the end. Speculation didn’t matter. Generations of Jedi were raised and taught without ever knowing about their bloody pasts. This section of a museum was neatly tucked away from their teachings. Just as the Jedi principles were perverted and twisted in Sith academies without the acolytes ever realizing Jedi were their true origin in many ways.

He didn’t follow her as she wandered off initially, but his curiosity was drawn to a section dedicated to modern Sith history. He walked over and saw a crude mask on display. In fact, he recognized it as his own. The plaque read ‘Darth Raze’s first mask. Recovered at the historic Attack on Ajan Kloss’. He scoffed at the display, recalling the attack he had led back when he was an 18 year old apprentice. Back when the name Raze meant nothing to the galaxy. It was unsettling to see that mask, and he made a mental note to steal it at some point. A Jedi Master skilled in psychometry could glean far too much knowledge from such an artifact.

Raze was unconcerned by being in the presence of a Jedi. From where he viewed the galaxy and where he was in the food chain, individual Jedi didn’t register on his radar as a threat. Councilors and above were his only concern these days. He didn’t miss her staring at him, his eyes gleaming in the backdrop against the crystal. Her apology only triggered the faintest tug of a grin at his lips.

“There are many beauties to admire in this hall, after all,” He said, his voice velvety smooth. His gaze then turned to the crystal, “Your eyes betray you. You have answers you seek from me and are bound by your customs that prohibit you from asking. Compelled into silence by unseen constraints defined by people that have no relevance to you,” He stated calmly as the kyber crystal faintly pulsed in his presence. She wouldn’t feel it, it was far too faint, but it called to him all the same. It was drawn to his vast reserves of power. The same kind of power that corrupted the crystal.


@HoneyMagpie

 

[Sybella Demici]

A burden to carry? Despite her trials and tribulations, Sybella did not view her duties as a Jedi as anything inherently onerous. At times, yes, things could be irksome but (for the most part) it left her feeling rather fulfilled. Helping others, protecting the weak - in these acts, she found purpose. Still, the heiress pondered (all but briefly) the implication behind Alistair’s words. Generations of Demici had joined the Jedi, serving faithfully till the end of their days. Their legends became stories for any children that followed. Not once did Sybella ever fell forced into making the choice of joining the Order; if anything, she was rather adamant, despite her family’s contemporary reluctance. Still, she couldn’t help but wonder if the decision would have been different, given a change in circumstances? Kalique, her cousin, grew up very similarly to Sybella - yet she never felt the call to service. Instead, she chose to align herself with the Empire.

Glancing back over her shoulder, the heiress recalled the suitor that was meant to attend her. If she were to ever have children, would they also be compelled to join the Jedi?

Darkness is never thrust upon anyone. It is invited.

A chill ran down Sybella’s spine, stealing away her wandering thoughts. Becoming visibly pale, her painted fingers ghosted at the coins that hung around her neck. Usually the gesture calmed her but, for the moment, the feeling persisted. Choosing instead to distract herself, the lady Jedi acknowledged Alistair’s rather shrewd observations; how uninhibited of him, to call out her diffidence to social protocol.

Feeling somewhat emboldened, she finally gave in to the best of her curiousity. The worst he could do was refuse her enquiry. “You said you were not stranger to Serenno, yet it is clear to me you are not a ‘typical’ Serennian. What are you, exactly? I’m not familiar with your species.”

Having spent an extensive amount time in the Outer Rim, Sybella liked to think she was well versed in the galaxy’s menagerie of life forms. Of course, it was impossible for her to know everything. Perhaps Alistair would indulge her and allow for some further questions.

 

[Darth Raze]

His gaze never left hers, even as she grew pale, as she clutched towards her comforts. He had this uncannily ability to undress with his eyes and to strip away every layer till the soul was bare. He wondered if that’s what Sybella Demici felt, if she felt stark naked right there in the middle of the artifact chamber. His visage had a calm bearing, not oppressive, not malicious, not overly expressive. It was calm, but engaged, guarded yet present. He was a complicated puzzle, but he didn’t mind being solved. Wasn’t it the journey that was most exciting?

Her question drew out a faint grin. He initially did not respond, walking over to inspect a new artifact. This was a finely crafted Sith blade. The desire to touch it was compelling, especially as it had elements of alchemy woven within. He could draw into its memories, learn some of the process and add it to his wealth of knowledge.

“I am an Anzat,” He answered quietly. It was the truth - he manifested in the body of an Anzat. Externally he did not appear unusual for his race. He also knew Serenno had historically been humanocentric, though a lot of those sentiments died away over the years, “We are a dying breed. Terribly misunderstood and often sufferers of prejudice,” He explained, certainly inviting more questions. It was a curious thing to have to research and learn about what species one was. He had been Emryc Thorne all his life and had to unlearn decades of everything he knew.

“As a Jedi, are you also not a stranger to Serenno?” He queried. Jedi normally gave up all their titles and positions when they joined the Order. Corruption threatened them otherwise. Was she a traditional Jedi or did she foolishly believe she could maintain both the hedonistic life of a Serenno socialite and the altruistic one of a Jedi?

@HoneyMagpie

 

[Sybella Demici]

The ordeal she had experienced on the moon of Iego had admittedly left the Jedi feeling rather fragile. A dark malevolence had attempted to exert its influence; though Sybella had prevailed (with much help from Kali) in warding it off, she still felt tainted and vulnerable. Now more than ever, she wished from her robes and shawl; to be shrouded and covered, concealed from view. This whole outing was meant to distract her, to give the much needed time to recover and think. Naturally, she had revealed nothing to her Jedi compatriots. What would they think of her? Days had been lost. Even now, memories of the event were entirely hazy and that worried Sybella greatly. What machinations was the spirit of Lujayn attempting to put in place? Were there still potential consequences?

Too many questions. Feeling her heart beginning to pulse, Sybella abandoned her thoughts, choosing to focus instead on Alistair. “Anzat?”

Had she misheard him?

Admittedly, the heiress would not have guessed. A Jedi master, an instructor during her time as a Padawan, had mentioned an encounter with the Anzati. Maybe they had embellished the tale, for the sake of younglings in the audience, but Sybella vaguely recalled how the master had described his foe. Though humanoid in appearance, the Anzat in the story had a bulbous nose with flared nostrils. Their skin was also a grayish-hue. Perhaps most terrifying of all, was the two tentacle-like proboscises that curled out and extended from their cheeks. Alistair, however, only partially aligned with the supposed visage. Was he a hybrid, perhaps? A possibility, given the cross over of most species. Then again, maybe her instructor had been a tad overzealous in his imagery.

Nevertheless, her new acquaintance had tugged at the Jedi’s empathetic heart. “You have my sympathies. It must be awful, being judged like that.” Sybella would like to think herself above some xenophobic thoughts, “I hope you haven’t suffered such slights whilst on Serenno…”

Just talking of her homeworld brought back memories. Some were filled with fondness, whilst others retained the expected sadness. One could indeed consider it true; the Jedi was very much a stranger, “But not for lack of trying, I assure you. The occupation of Serenno was most unfortunate. It all but solidified my rather lengthy exile.”

Looking down at the dagger on display, Sybella compared it to that of her own. The blade was jagged by design, made only with the purpose of tearing open fleshy orifices. Its shaft (expertly carved) also acted a weapon as a rather menacing spike had been affixed to the hilt; it would have provided the perfect advantage over any unwitting opponents. Sybella’s familial dagger possessed nothing of the sort. It was more ornate in style, purpose more ceremonial than anything. Still, a weapon was a weapon; it didn’t stop Sybella from using it as such more than once. On one particular occasion, it had even saved her life. Normally, she would wear it at her waist but given her current attire, it was not the best accessory.

“You may not know this but many of my family have served the Jedi Order; our name dates back as far as the Old Republic.” Indeed, when a Demici joined, they would traditionally relinquish all familial ties, including their titles and inheritance. However, a morbid twist of fate had secured their survival during The Great Purge.

Sybella was the first in generations to restart the tradition. Though her family respected her wishes at the time, they had reservations of their own to consider. Just thinking about it made her chuckle, the sheer awkwardness of it all. “My mother hopes I will abandon my Jedi life. She thinks I ought to return to Serenno and become the new matriarch.”

Why she felt confident confiding this in Alistair was beyond her. He was quite literally a stranger and yet his unfamiliarity ironically made him an unlikely confidante.

 

[Darth Raze]

He watched her gaze flick towards his nose and appraise other physical features on him. A faint smirk appeared on his face, “History likes to make caricatures of us,” He explained, “Easier to paint one as a villain when they are not appealing to behold,” He said. He knew about the Demici history of course. However, he didn’t bother to tell her of all those in her family that fell. Or those within her family that killed other Demici that fell. Or the Jedi Demici that killed Demici that they suspected of being anything less than the shining paragon of what a Light sided Force user should be. No, history was always skewed keeping things under wraps to keep a tradition going. He said none of it, feigning ignorance. Allowing her to illuminate him. He preferred it this way.

“It is a chance to uphold your family name as it once was -woven with the Jedi,” He remarked, “Why would the Countess not wish for such a thing?” Raze queried, his face suggesting curiosity. After all, Serennians loved opportunities to make their mark in history. Opening a long-closed door of a Jedi alliance could get old Idesta Demici’s name stamped into the books in a bit bolder print than her immediate ancestors. He had a few guesses as to why, but he wanted to tease it out of Sybella. He didn’t forget that she had originally arrived here with some green noble that was tripping over himself to impress her. It was a wonder he didn’t come stumbling in to witness such a scandal.

@HoneyMagpie

 

[Sybella Demici]

"Appealing to behold?" Sybella's attempts at feigning scepticism would have been more convincing, had she not failed in concealing her budding grin, "Well, I suppose that is certainly one way of putting it."

A large majority of those in attendance at the museum would definitely agree. It was a wonder Alistair didn't have a lady of his own to keep his company; then again, he didn't seem like the type who would fish for compliments. His features were like that of a granite statue, well cut and just as equally well proportioned. His wife, if he had one, was quite lucky. Glancing over her shoulder, Sybella recalled she had a potential partner of her own to consider; he was decent enough, attentive and pleasant - he was, however, a part of her mother's much larger machinations. Alro belonged to one of Serenno's lesser, more contemporary houses. Outsiders might consider the pair to be mismatched but Sybella was wise to the age-old scheme. A marriage between two well-established might cause unwarranted issues; the position of dominance, for example, would be in question. Who would end up deferring to whom? The matriarch Idesta, ever the shrewd one, was practical to a fault. If the union was to ever be finalised, Sybella would be the one to maintain authority.

Ah, the plots and ploys of matrimony.

But Alistair seemed to understand that a lasting legacy was the more appealing of prospects, for Sybella at least. Countess. A title she might never obtain - would the trade seem fair, should she ever receive the rank of master? Only time would tell. "It's important, to me at least, that people like myself - people who are born into privilege, do something meaningful and lead by example. I wanted to help others, not merely hide behind my status."

She could have lived a life of comfort. Days could have been spent in absolute decadence, and though Sybella enjoyed the frivolity for a time, she found it could be rather stifling. Parts of her craved something more, something more...glorious.

Catching sight of Alistair's curiosity, the lady Jedi attempted to pre-empt a potential point. "You might wonder why I never considered the life of a diplomat; I would have been able to retain my title and lifestyle, all whilst 'helping others'. My mother said the very same; she even suggested, as an alternative, to join the senate but I'll be honest...I'm just not brave enough for politics."

Of course, she was jesting. For the most part.

The last of the exhibit appeared to be a tapestry of sorts, depicting all kinds of iconography. The scriptures, woven into the fabric's very borders, were supposedly spells of some kind. Tuk'ata were also featured in a simplistic fashion; judging from the illustration, the scene depicted was a hunt of sorts. The prey fleeing across multiple threads were, presumably, defeated enemies. The Old Sith could certainly be quite vivid in their art.

"Your longevity must allow you much perspective. I suppose notions of legacy and inheritance don't seem quite as finite. How old are you, Alistair? If you don't mind me asking..."

 

[Darth Raze]

He knew his worth and he wasn’t shy about it. He didn’t need to be humble or act coy. He worse his confidence on his sleeve, and he had earned it over a lifetime of building and shaping from nothing. He wasn’t going to act like he was anything less than exactly what he intended to be after all that. Others could accept that or they could remove themselves from his presence. So far, this Sybella clearly found his presence curious enough to stick around. Her gait throughout the museum was slow, venturing just far enough not to make it obvious that she wanted him to join her, but then starting dialogue again to keep that invisible thread between them. It was a little game he could see plainly, but he played his own part in conveniently venturing to similar sights in the museum that just happened to align with her curiosity.

He grinned at her compulsion to give something back simply because she was born into privilege. It was an in invisible burden people took on that only left them dissatisfied in the end, “Altruism is a curious concept,” He began, “For those that feel compelled to do something to give back to the galaxy, it is ultimately driven by an obligation that needs to be met within themselves, which inherently satisfies a selfish desire. The selfness nature of the act is therefore a thinly veiled indulgence in the end. It takes a different kind of strength to embrace one’s selfishness that is woven into tasks that overtly ‘do good for the galaxy’.”

The man smirked again at the mention of politics. If only she knew that he had been Emryc Thorne, the most infamous politician in the entire galaxy right now. Parts of him missed it – the glamor, the power, the way everyone pandered to him, the way he commanded the voice of a god. In the senate, all eyes were always on Emryc Thorne because what he said determined how the galaxy moved. No, Raze had a different kind of power now, a raw strength that he had snatched from the man who now had no means to combat him. Renfry was dead, so it left only a few others that could shield Emryc until Raze was able to erase him.

They arrived at the last section and his attention was drawn to the spells. He could read most of it from his decades of studying Ancient Sith. His regret was that he couldn’t access all the rows upon rows of ancient texts that Emryc had kept in his ship. His thoughts were interrupted when Sybella asked about his age. Ah, a tricky topic, and one he would have to navigate carefully.

“I am a young adult by the standards of an Anzat,” He said, “I am slightly over a hundred. Our awareness of the galaxy and growth is very different from humans. My conscious thoughts extend back to slightly over half a century,” Which put him closer to his real age, but the way he framed it also lined up with the timing of when his Anzat body would have been a child or teen mentally.

His gaze flicked over to hers, lips curled into that familiar smile, “And I believe you are old enough to tell a suitor when he is not wanted,” He stated flatly. As if on cue, moments later, Alro turned a corner and spotted them, holding a drink for Sybella in his hand. His gaze immediately flicked to the stranger next to his paramour and he quickened his pace, “Where have you been?” He asked her, unable to entirely mask the irritation in his tone.

@HoneyMagpie

 

[Sybella Demici]

Sybella's first impulse was to offer up words of disagreement. If she understood Alistair correctly, he was essentially suggesting that altruism (the act of selflessly helping others) was a paradoxical concept. In fact, it could be a disguised form of self-indulgence. He also implied that being selfish had its benefits as well. The heiress couldn't remember the last time she acted out of her own self-interest; pondering the Anzat's words further, she came to the realisation that there was validity in his statement.

The Jedi, however, was ready to offer up some of her own considerations. "Your words have merit, I must admit. Still, let's not forget that altruism is driven by a combination of factors. Empathy. Compassion - acts of goodness can still have a positive impact, regardless of any personal satisfaction gained. Does that make them somehow lesser? I think not. Sometimes, one must also sacrifice. Is that not the purest form of genuine selflessness? Altruism may empower a person by indirect means, yet it still lends itself towards the strengthening of others."

Casting her eyes over the exhibit one last time, Sybella also noticed examples of the Old Sith's writing. Looking over them longer than she had originally intended, it was actually Arlo's voice that brought her back to reality. With Alistair being so close in terms of space, only he would see the heiress' less than enthused wince.

Nevertheless, she turned and greeted her original companion with her usual expression; it was pleasant enough and well-practised. "Ah, Arlo. I was just thinking about you. The exhibits are so engrossing, I lost track of time." Taking the drink, she then gestured to Alistair, "Allow me to introduce Lord Winchester, or have you met already?"

The look she flashed the Anzat was one of reproach, though there wasn't much weight behind it. If she were to dismiss her intended, she would need a better reason - else, she would never hear the end of it from her mother. Then again, Arlo's tone wasn't in the less bit attractive. Taking hold of his arm, and locking it with her own, Sybella gave the nobleman a reassuring squeeze. An affectionate gesture, to anyone observing them.

Keep the peace, that was Sybella's current mantra.

 

[Darth Raze]

“Sacrifice is nothing more than leaving others with the burden of your passing,” He stated calmly. It was something the Holomovies or history books never talked about. Sacrifice and martyrdom was always glorified, but it almost always left those that survived with a darkness forming in their hearts. Guilt. It was a feeling that could fester and twist, taking root and then blossoming into exactly what the self-sacrifcing individual may have combated. He wasn’t argumentative in his debate style, very matter of fact and methodical instead. He had to remember to put his politician hat away - he wasn’t Emryc Thorne right now.

The Anzat observed the fuming noble that was instantly pacified by Sybella taking a firm grip on him - like a toddler tantrum quelled by a mother. Raze wasn’t sure whether the display was to feed her own ego or Arlo’s, but he found it entertaining all the same, “Pleasure,” He said to the man almost dismissively. His gaze flicked to Sybella, “I shall not keep you any longer,” He said politely before turning on his heel to return to the Sith sections. He really did need to find a way to extract his own mask from the displays here. The risk of psychometry was unsettling, and he couldn’t imagine what details could be drawn from it.

@HoneyMagpie

 

[Sybella Demici]

Despite the fleeting nature of their encounter, Sybella felt a touch dispirited. Her conversation with Alistair, however brief, had been quite compelling. Still, her sense of duty loomed. Arlo was the one originally accompanying her; it was to him she ought to return. With one last glance, perhaps at Alistair, perhaps at the exhibit, the heiress left the secluded section. There was still so much to see, yet Arlo's souring mood admittedly made it difficult. Understandably, the noble had felt slighted. He had chosen the location with Sybella specifically in mind; to then find her in the company of another? It was an insult. Try as she might, Sybella couldn't seem to muster much resolution between the two of them.

In fact, she outright refused to partake in such pandering. Skulking off in apparent offence, Arlo left Sybella, concluding the courtship between them wasn't worth pursuing. She wouldn't allow herself the indignity of chasing after him; instead, the heiress remained at the museum, exploring it at her own pace, all whilst mulling over the potential fallout that may follow. The last on her list to visit was the botanical section. Given her affinity with plants, the Jedi hoped the experience would be a soothing one. Again, not many people seemed keen on exploring the indoor gardens, perhaps because of the numerous warning signs dotted around the entrance and its archway.

Beware. Carnivorous Plants.
​

Stepping into the large, glass conservatory, Sybella felt the drastic shift in temperature; the air was warm and humid, carrying with it the tantalizing scents of exotic flowers and vegetation. Lush greenery stretched out in every direction; tower-like plants with twisting vines and vibrant leaves reached upwards towards the transparent ceiling, basking in what remained of the dwindling light. With darkness approaching, some plants began to emit a soft, bioluminescent glow; the colours ranged from iridescent blues and purples to fiery oranges and deep greens. Among the specimens was a large, looming flytrap; bigger and more intricate than anything Sybella had ever seen, it could easily swallow an entire person. Despite the plant's deadly capability, it looked so innocent; simply swaying in the warm breeze, awaiting unsuspecting prey to trigger its deadly mechanisms.

Moving along the winding pathways, the Jedi come across an array of massive pitcher plants. They stood like sentinels, their bulbous, hollow appendages open wide. They were adorned with otherworldly patterns and equally vivid colours. Venturing deeper, Sybella found spiky, carnivorous tendrils hanging from the branches of a strange, glowing tree. The tendrils dangle like menacing serpents, their tips dripping with a potent digestive enzyme. Oddly enough, the appendages appeared almost sentient, eerily swaying from left to right.

Whilst wandering in and amongst the expansive gardens, Sybella had allowed her mind to drift. Her reflections, however, were not kind. Sipping the last of her fluke, the Jedi couldn't help but rue over recent events. Her ordeal on Iego's moon had shaken her resolve, not only that but trying to balance her return to family affairs. Trying to piece everything together was like trying to solve a poorly made puzzle; nothing was falling into place, no matter how hard she tried. To make matters worse, Sybella believed the Jedi were becoming wise to her trials and tribulations. They had no confidence in her skills, why else would they not have assigned her a Jedi Padawan yet? Without the necessary steps, she would never be granted the rank of Jedi Master. Not that her mother would complain; the matriarch would probably jump for joy, citing it as yet another reason to leave the Order.

With a darkening expression, the glass in Sybella's hand suddenly shattered. Whether through the Force or through her own strength, she had rendered the fluke into pieces, sustaining cuts in the process.

Irritated, the heiress sighed in blatant vexation. Her palm, now bleeding, twitched from the minor cuts, yet all Sybella could think of was this - "It's all falling apart..."

 

[Darth Raze]

He turned his attention to the mask, left entirely alone in the chambers. He called on the Force, staring intently at the object as he delved into everything that was packed into its creation, every thread of memory and every sensation laced within. He touched the object and was transported back to a fateful day when he had been just a boy and leading a decisive assault on the Jedi Temple. He saw memories of watching the former Jedi Grandmaster die. He could recall the Ithorian’s voice in his mind, violating his thoughts and tearing open wounds both physical and mental.

Long suppressed rage began to pulse and the glass cases and the entire room pulsed with energy for a moment. Lights flickered on and off, and there was a sudden chill experienced by anyone passing through the adjacent rooms. It was but a glimpse into the darkness that fueled him. He wanted nothing more than to destroy and exert his will on whatever he pleased. However, being Emryc had taught him patience. He had been overt on Ithor - he had his vengeance on the planet and its people. Something Emryc promised but couldn’t deliver on, but he had. There was a time and place for grand displays of his power, and this was not one of them.

After he was done, the mask had been tampered with. He left it as is, but anyone attempting psychometry would see nothing but haze. They would know a powerful Force user had tampered with it, but nothing more.

He later found himself in the conservatory because it had many types of plants that could serve a purpose in various alchemy endeavors. The Anzat discreetly managed to clip a few things, a casual wave of his hand sending away anyone that ventured this way until he was done. He continued this throughout the gardens, taking whatever he needed and pocketing them. Emryc would have traveled all across the galaxy to obtain the ingredients himself, Raze was more about efficiency.

She would have spotted him there when she arrived, but he largely minded his own business. It was then that he heard her exclaim in pain. He calmly looked at the shattered glass, her emotions turbulent and charged. Her exclamation was certainly dramatic, and she would know he was there to hear it. He drew back from the plants he had been eyeing and made his way over.

“Trouble in paradise?” He asked, amusement glinting in his eye. If she allowed it, he gently grasped her hand, lifting it up to inspect the cuts. With a gentle brush of his cool thumb against her skin, she would feel her wounds closing up in an instant. It was a casual display of what should have been tough to master for a Jedi. There were no signs of the cuts having been there at all, nor the pain. Somewhere out of eyesight, a live and moving plant shriveled away and had its energies siphoned away, but she didn’t need to know that.

@HoneyMagpie

 

[Sybella Demici]

Exhaling slowly, Sybella attempted to regain some of her failing composure. Out of habit, she silently recited the Jedi's mantra, allowing it soothe the emotions that simmered. With practiced ease, the heiress put on an air of indifference, offering Alistair nothing more than an impassive shrug, "No love has been lost, I can assure you of that."

Feigning a moment of sadness, she then took a moment to examine her injury. Luckily, it appeared none of the glass shards had become imbedded. The cuts were superficial, at best. Flexing the fingers invoked only the slightest of stings; though blood was present, it was minimal. Hardly anything catastrophic. Sybella would have attempted to stem the injury herself, but when Alistair grasped at her, she allowed his touch. she believed he would do something of a gentlemanly nature, like tying a handkerchief around the worse of the wound. Instead, the Anzat surprised her yet again by actually healing the cut instead.

She blinked, inspecting the now unblemished skin. It shouldn't come as a great surprise though, considering how his species (like a few others) were naturally attuned to the Force. "Indeed, you are a man of many talents..."

Sybella wondered what else the Anzat was capable of...

"Have you had much opportunity to explore the rest of the exhibits?"

 

[Darth Raze]

Societal pressures were always curious to someone like him. He could bend most situations to his desire, though his plot for Serenno required a bit more discretion. He could tell Sybella was manufacturing or hiding emotions, and it was one of many oddities he found in humans. They always had this compulsion to put up a front. What did it ultimately gain them? She would have resorted to a lifetime of subpar pleasures married to a suitor she didn’t desire. What greater purpose did that serve?

He drew his hand away from hers, anchored back by her question. His crimson gaze panned over the observatory, “I have ventured through the exhibits I sought,” It was true – he tampered with his mask, he got the plants he needed, and the rest of it didn’t interest him, “I was going to take my leave,” The Anzat said before he turned to look at her again.

@HoneyMagpie