Ask Cloud Nine

[Darth Stolas]

Morgan sank down onto his heels, thighs nearly parallel with the floor beneath his feet. His arms came up, right forward and loose, left bent at the elbow and across his chest. He faced his right shoulder, expression tight and focused. He inhaled, the fires of the Dark Side were fueled, a humming harmonized with the music played, and he began to move.

Rapidly he rose, leaned forward onto his front foot and pushing off the floor from the ball of his foot, left foot coming up and forward into a leg guard that matched the new angle of his left arm. His waist and hips coiled and twisted in opposite directions, gathering powering. Then his left foot slammed to the floor and his hand shot forward while he sank again to the ground, left hand punching forward and double-soft pajama sleeve snapping in the air.

Up again, on the left leg this time, arms back up in guard. He spun on his heel and cocked his hips forward, right leg delivering a sharp kick into the air. The movements were exaggerated and telegraphed, clearly, but it was a training form. A similar concept to Emryc's kata of yesterday, though of a different style. Steadily he transitioned through different movements, always coiling, circular and then straight, up and down, back and forth. Alternating taking a breath and humming, the Force

More than once he had to bite back the growl the humming wanted to be, particularly as the air in the room began to smell of sweat and musk rather than dust and cleaning products. Several times a sleeve slipped back as he moved, the flash of some kind of marking visible just before his hands blurrily visible before the garment snapped back into place. Especially when he switched from a low form to high and his hands flashed from a tight guard, left-right-left, right-left-right, sharp jabs, straights, and hooks. He was in his element and his body wanted to fight. Nothing could break his focus.

Whoah, hold on, what's that over there? Midway through a step-in he turned and saw Emryc. He'd done that several times so far, though only when he wasn't also looking. But this time he was upside down and practically shirtless. There, beneath his tanktop, were scars. Long and vicious, layered across each other, again and again. Well someone had a pain tolerance. He recognized the work of a whip when he saw it, but why? Who? When?

Morgan looked his arms for a moment, then back up. He let out a deep breath, stood straight, and walked over to Emryc. He sat himself on a crate. He dripped with sweat, soaking into his shirt. He pulled at it to loosen it away from the undershirt he also wore and then again at sleeves to unstick them from his skin. Even then, vague shapes could perhaps be hinted at beneath the cloth.

"Having fun?"

@Sreeya

 

[Emryc Thorne]

Emryc exhaled quietly while he was upside down, his mind focused on the music. It took a moment to realize that Morgan had addressed him. He paused for a moment, opening his eyes before he gracefully brought his legs down in almost slow motion with strict control. He rose to stand again, chest rising and falling as sweat lined his body. He had to pull the tank back down as it clung to his skin.

He noticed Morgan was sitting up on a crate as if watching a movie. Silver gaze flickered just for a moment to his wrists, making out faint shapes that Morgan made an effort to cover up. The gaze lingered just long enough before drifting up to the goldens, “Are you?” He asked with a light smirk, running his fingers through his hair. Gaze shifted over to the crate and then up to Morgan sitting on top. Then back to crate.

Emryc turned to fully face him and walked towards him, gaze fixed on his. He leaned forth so a hand was placed on each side of Morgan. He didn’t say word before he rotated the crate entirely to face towards the length of the cargo hold. With that, he tilted his body forth and began to push the crate back across the floor, Morgan and the crate combining to provide a fair amount of resistance. Arms bulged as he pushed the crate back, his gaze a mixture of focus and amusement while he was mere inches away.

It was peak improvising.

@Mr. Teatime

 

[Darth Stolas]

The young Sith tilted his head slightly as Emryc returned to a normal orientation, though his expression remained one of mild amusement- aside from his eyes, which sparkled with the hints of a wild energy. He folded his legs in front of him and leaned back, hands supporting his weight. Stretched out there on that crate before Emryc, wet clothes clinging to his skin, he grinned wider.

"Just a little," he replied back, eyebrow raising as Emryc looked between him and his impromptu seat. There was no resistance from Morgan at it being turned around, nor as the other Sith began to push it across the floor. The sound wasn't the greatest, but the floor was smooth and the crate was alright. The sound was the least of Morgan's distractions just now. He could leave the scars for later.

The scents that came up and off of Emryc were... Something. His nostrils flared at he intensity and the closeness, eyes narrowing slightly. Almost unbidden a hum flowed out from his throat, deeper and chestier than the others. Almost a purr, but not quite. Something in the mix of higher gravity and exertion brought a fire to his blood and his eyes that hadn't been there before, looking up at Emryc.

"You can go harder than that can't you, solder boy?'

@Sreeya

 

[Emryc Thorne]

Emryc watched Morgan closely, provided front row access to the firrerreo that always had everything together. That simply had no hairline cracks in the armor. He looked into the eyes that always burned, that always held amusement, that always played games. He silently pushed the crate back, watching every little twitch and every little move.

And there it was. He saw the nostrils flare, he heard that throaty rumble that was almost involuntary. There was a shift in the frosty silver eyes, just for a moment. The goldens changed then, burning with something else entirely, something Emryc hadn’t seen before. Something he didn’t even know he wanted to see. Words spilled from Morgan, but even then they were carefully arranged around the primal noises that almost escaped.

Emryc said nothing in response, keeping his gaze fixed as he paused just for a moment. A hand reached out to the side as a ship repair part floated into his hand. It was extra weight and resistance. Instead of walking around, Emryc leaned in even closer, his chest almost brushing against Morgan’s as his head looked over his shoulder. His arm extended out, brushing the inside of his elbow against Morgan’s outer arm. He placed the ship part on the crate behind Morgan for the extra weight. Emryc’s gaze was trained forward the entire time, looking at the opposite wall, his bare shoulder dangerously close to Morgan’s face. He lingered there in the heat between them.

He pulled back after the part was placed, returning to have his hands on either side of Morgan again. He began to slowly push again, this time having to exert more effort. Emryc looked at Morgan again, gaze frosty yet again, “Evidently not.”

@Mr. Teatime

 

[Darth Stolas]

Morgan was mildly surprised Emryc even bothered to humour him, moving the bit of metal onto the crate. Gold looked again into silver, head tilting slightly in interest and curiosity. Then Emryc leaned in, closer and closer. Oh dear.

Emryc really needed to be more careful. Morgan almost bit him. As the other Sith leaned in, for a moment that chesty purr dropped to a bass, rumbling growl and his grin shifted into a fanged and intense smile. Then it was back again, though still a full purr, and he decided he liked what he smelled like up close. Jaws that could crack bone were mere inches from the man's neck and he just kept on going, pushing away.

Evidently not? Those icy eyes of Emryc's turned toward him and he met them, the purring hum intensifying in volume. The Force vibrated along with it, out between the two of them. It wasn't quite a song, but it was a sign he was thoroughly enjoying himself. He wanted Emryc to finish what he started.

"Sure you can. I believe in you."

@Sreeya

 

[Emryc Thorne]

He felt Morgan move near him. His ears picked up every little movement and the intake of breath and the way his very demeanor shifted. The growl echoed deep from the man’s chest and silver eyes caught the fangs that looked sharper than ever. It was almost enough to send a chill down his spine, but it came from a desire to feel those very fangs against his flesh. Emryc’s jaw tightened just slightly, but his eyes remained unwavering.

Emryc gazed at him as he kept pushing the crate back, never changing the pace. Sweat dripped down his body, exhaustion began to set in. He kept going, but never picked it up. His hands shifted closer to Morgan till they brushed against the outside of his thighs. Every gesture was purposeful, every movement measured. Fire flickered within the frost just for a moment, deep beneath the sheet of ice that Morgan could peer through.

Yet after a moment, Emryc stopped moving. He paused for just a moment, committing that purring growl to memory. The half Sephi let his eyes do all the work, no predatory growl escaping him. He slowly stood back to full height and stepped back, a lazy grin spreading across his face.

“I have to be careful….wouldn’t want you to hurt me,” He said quietly as he stepped back. He turned away from Morgan, casually slipping the tank off as he strode from the room. If Morgan looked, he would see his full back on display, every inch of it riddled with scars. He would know they were self inflicted with the way they were placed. They spoke plainly that pain did not phase him. Emryc didn’t say a word as he left, deciding he was done with training and due for a shower.

@Mr. Teatime

 

[Darth Stolas]

Morgan's eyes followed Emryc's every motion, his ears caught every breath and exertion. In the places his hands brushed fire burned across his skin and the purring sound intensified. Then, Emryc stopped.

The distance that came afterwards was almost cruel and jarring, pulling Morgan back to some semblance of his senses. That grin on Emryc's face and the words he spoke were answered only by Morgan freezing in places, not moving except his head. Those burning golds followed him out the Cargo Hold door, drank in the sight of those scars across his back. He couldn't help but think he could use a few more. Every step Emryc took away that deep purring sound continued, echoing softly in the hold.

Then he was gone and the door closed behind him. With a great deliberateness and care Morgan stood from the crate he'd been seated on, slow and steady. Silently his feet touched on the ground and he stood up straight, shoulders rolling back, tense and stiff.

A chittering emerged from between his teeth as he tried to take a deep breath, and then unbidden and outside his will, the fire burst forth from the furnace and the tiger broke free of its cage.

His lips curled back and his fangs bared. A barking, snarling, whining roar of frustration and fury echoed off the metal walls and his leg whipped back in a savage and wild kick to the crate, a resounding thud and the scraping of metal joining in as it was sent back several feet. He turned, eyes burning in a way few living had ever seen and another roar emerged. He stepped forward and kicked it again, no art to the motion, only heat and passion and feral power. He hit it. He hit it again. The gravity fought him but he hit it anyway, the Dark rage he kept gathered in the depths spilling out at the closest relevant target.

Eventually his fist came down atop the crate and he finally exhaled properly. He turned to look at his hand, bruised from the attempt and the skin flushed a deep, dangerous silver. He yanked back the sleeves and saw the markings on his skin, brighter than the surrounding skin. A deep and snake-like hiss slithered out from between his teeth and he flipped the garment back into place.

His teacher would be disappointed in him. Morgan had been warned it would be difficult, that he would fail until he'd mastered the heat in his soul. He slid to the ground on his knees and leaned against the crate, the aftereffects of the release leaving him weary. The young Sith sat there for a few seconds, just breathing, then moved to stand. We do not kneel. If he was going to fail, he would at least do it properly.

He pulled himself to his feet and ran his fingers through his hair, left wild and drenched in sweat. He walked to the door of the hold and bent down to retrieve the shirt where Emryc had dropped it and then left the room behind. He passed by the refresher and dropped the shirt in front of it, torn into by iron fingers while Morgan's concentration waned. He stepped into the captain's quarters and began to disrobe himself, markings on his skin bared for a moment to the light.

He shut the door.

@Sreeya

 

[Emryc Thorne]

The rest of the evening passed without them coming across one another. Emryc had surveyed the tattered tank, eyeing it from various different angles. Several different data points whirled through his mind, but in the end there was a vague mystery left behind. He would never ask about it, tossing it away. His next workout would simply have to be without a shirt.

Emryc did his prayers, his meditation, ate a meal by himself, passing by Morgan’s door a few times. The man hadn’t emerged since they parted ways at the cargo hold and it was certainly enough to pique Emryc’s curiosity. In the end, silence remained as he retired to his room, reading another page of comics before finally collapsing in the bed.

He was up early the next morning, dressed in civilian attire for Bespin. They would land momentarily and he gathered up a plate of fruits for breakfast. Emryc was in the common area, sitting on the couch and eating while the Holonet was on.

There was footage of a party on Eriadu that was busted with shots of Preef Callo on the scene. Emryc leaned forward when he saw a shock of red hair, briefly recognizing Lyra in the footage as she stepped into the scene and then promptly left. The penthouse cameras flashed to the side and a man that looked almost exactly like Morgan scuttled out of a window.

“What...the..kriff…” Emryc muttered under his breath, glancing down and picking up a piece of fruit. He sniffed at it a few times to see if it was laced with spice.

@Mr. Teatime

 

[Darth Stolas]

At some point before Emryc had come from his room Morgan had slipped into the refresher to shower and scrub the sweat from his body, having not done so properly the day before. He emerged again through a cloud of herb and citrus scented steam, dry and dressed as an affluent civilian save for a jacket folded neatly over his arm, hair properly gone through and put into place just like when Emryc had first met him. His skin was back to its normal shade and even the bruise on his hand was gone by now. Not a single hair out of place. The pajamas had been stuffed in a laundry bag which was subsequently tossed into the crate.

Morgan went back into his room for a moment to retrieve the bag of snacks and then walked to the galley area. He selected different fruits and vegetables along with a protein bar and dumped the remaining meat snacks on the plate before out to the common area.

He sat there and ate his food piece by piece, not directly looking at Emryc for a while. Rather than the vivid energy he'd had the last two days he was, if anything, quite cold and military in the way he moved. Then a familiar sound drew his attention and he looked over at the screen. Oh, now that looked familiar. That party had been a brief but notably amusing diversion. He also saw himself on the screen briefly, cheerily making his exit onto the balcony and dressed quite casually.

"It was a mess, that one."

@Sreeya

 

[Emryc Thorne]

Emryc was still inspecting the fruit when Morgan emerged, carrying with him a rather pleasant scent. Keen eyes surveyed the firrerreo that had a shift in demeanor. He was right back to the man that walked into the room to receive their mission brief. There was no smile, no trilling laughter, no music. The absence of it was far more noticeable than Emryc would care to admit.

Morgan said some words and it took a moment for it to register that he had been on Holo. Emryc glanced back at the scene, popping another piece of fruit into his mouth. He watched with mild amusement as the footage of a statue head being thrown was shown in slow motion.

Emryc noticed that Morgan avoided eye contact, a stark shift from the day prior. Emryc didn’t offer the same courtesy back, leaning back in his seat to openly gaze at Morgan. He took the time to study the angles of his face, the way his hair was perfectly made up, the way his eyes looked different from before.

“I enjoy the way you sing, nightingale,” He said after a while, rather out of the blue. He kept his gaze on Morgan whether the man looked or not, popping a grape into his mouth. Emryc finally glanced back at the Holo, “I will miss it when we part.”

@Mr. Teatime

 

[Darth Stolas]

Morgan said nothing after his initial comment, back to his food like it was nothing. He knew Emryc was watching him. Knew he'd noticed Morgan wasn't looking at him. The other Sith was smart and observant. He-

Said something Morgan hadn't expected to hear just then. Morgan froze halfway to his plate, then his arm slowly came back to rest in his lap. Emryc looked away and his eyes softened from the military mask he'd put on. It couldn't be that easy. If it was, then... Morgan didn't know how to do it that way. Didn't know if he could. But, maybe, he could try. It was just another game, right? A simple one, quick and easy. Just for him.

Or at least, that's how he tried to convince himself. He was no nightingale. Just a blackbird, singing in the dead of night.

Morgan was quiet for a few seconds after Emryc spoke before he said anything, nothing but the sound of the holo and the ship around them. It was so quiet. It was that quiet that finally pushed him to respond. He took a breath he wasn't aware he'd been holding.

"I will miss having you around to hear it, soldier boy," he said softly, the cold tone melted away. In its place was a gentle, fragile warmth. It was bittersweet and a little hesitant, like he was unused to saying such things out loud. He spoke the words delicately and carefully, like how one would hold an injured bird or a precious and invaluable thing between their fingers.

"I have another. Would you like to hear the words, Emryc?"

@Sreeya

 

[Emryc Thorne]

Emryc could hear Morgan shift slightly, but he purposely allowed the man space to stew on his words. He knew they were out of the blue and he knew Morgan liked to play his little games. He would allow the firrerreo his moment to recalibrate without making him believe he was under Emryc’s gaze. The half Sephi casually popped another grape into his mouth, icy stare on the Holo as he now watched a segment about an explosion in some underground factory on Nar Shaddaa.

Morgan’s words caught him slightly off guard, and it caused him to slowly turn his head to look at the other man. The goldens had softened and they were a shade Emryc liked. The expression softened, and it was just right. It was almost enough to faintly tug at the corner of his lips. He hadn’t realized he liked Morgan to look at him a certain way.

“Every word,” He said quietly before he switched off the Holo. Emryc spun around to give the firrerreo his full attention, looking for the ways his eyes or body shifted when he sang.

@Mr. Teatime

 

[Darth Stolas]

MUSIC
​

Another second passed before the young man moved again. A small lit up his face and he turned away, standing and heading to the captain's quarters. If he was going to do it, he was going to do it right.

He picked his hallikset off the bed where he'd left it last and walked back out to sit on the couch, back against the corner and partly facing Emryc. He crossed his legs and got comfortable, instrument cradled in hands with the same tenderness he'd chosen his words. He looked up at Emryc, then straight ahead. For a time his face was expressionless beyond the softness in his golden eyes.

Then he began to play. Long fingers pulled and slid across the strings of his instrument to begin the melody. The energy in the air began to join in with the sound, like it'd been waiting for him all along. Flashes of colour began to appear amidst the clouds, just like the last time, but here it was also different. The colours were darker and deeper, the impressions had greater weight. They built slowly while he played, the echoes through the Force dancing over every surface and of every hallway in the ship that, for a little while longer, the two of them had just to themselves.

Morgan's lips parted and he began to sing.

"Blackbird singing in the dead of night, take these broken wings and learn to fly. All your life, you were only waiting for this moment to arise."

It was a lullaby, another from an age long past, but one much closer to his heart and his past. It was melancholy and hopeful in the same breath. It was encouraging, it was heavy, it was loneliness. It was the struggle to rise up and become greater than oneself and those who came before. It was the promise of freedom if you shook off the chains that bound you.

"Blackbird singing in the dead of night, take these sunken eyes and learn to see. All your life, you were only waiting for this moment to be free."

The words danced and soared through the air in spite of the weight that dragged them down. The voice that sang them never faltered, not even for a moment, but Morgan face reflected the mix of emotions and experiences it took to sing such a thing in harmony with the Force. Only practice kept his voice from breaking and ending the song before it finished. But he couldn't let himself do that. He couldn't lose against himself.

"All your life, you were only waiting for this moment to arise..."

The words faded away while his fingers kept playing the song, the muscles of his face slightly tightening. He kept playing until the end. The strings faded at last, their final echoes disappearing into the background noise of the ship. The impressions from Morgan faded slowly along with them. I win.

Morgan closed his eyes and moved to turn in his seat away from the other man.

He didn't want Emryc to see him cry.

@Sreeya

 

[Emryc Thorne]

Emryc watched as Morgan retrieved the hallikset and began to play. He had grown to love the instrument, and he briefly pondered learning it. The music began at once, Morgan’s voice blending into the air and becoming a part of the ship’s very identity. There was an imprint that would linger long after he was gone, his voice and the Force working in concert whenever he sang.

There was almost a dazed look on Emryc’s face, an effect only music had on him. The steely gaze softened for a bit and the faintest trace of a smile tugged at his lips. He tilted his head and rested it on a palm, foot moving to the song beneath the table. Emryc was distracted by watching the Firrerreo, seeing his transformation from a stoic soldier to something so beautiful. However, Emryc truly focused on the words and the melody when he was over halfway through.

The smile began to fade and the eyes began to shift. His mind began to analyze and calculate, pulling together pieces from different memories. Emryc straightened up then, watching Morgan closely as his eyes narrowed slightly. The song slowly faded as he finished and Emryc rose from his seat.

He closed the distance as Morgan turned away. He didn’t hold back then, reaching a hand to gently cup Morgan’s chin to turn him to face him. Emryc didn’t allow Morgan his space that time, he stepped right in and threw caution to the wind. He gazed into those eyes, his own burning with an icy chill.

“Who are you?”

The question was laced with daggers, cutting and piercing. However, before there could be an answer, an alarm began to blare. They had both gotten lost in the music and missed the countdown to the jump from hyperspace. There was a heavy lurch and neither of them were buckled in. As a result, Emryc and Morgan would both be sent toppling over and colliding against the side of the walls as the ship jumped.

The half Sephi landed with a thud against a door, wincing from the pain as he quickly scrambled to get up, “Kriff!” He growled as he stumbled his way over to the cockpit, giving Morgan room to rush past him so he could take the captain’s chair. Emryc quickly sat down and buckled himself in, leaving it to Morgan to manually land them.

@Mr. Teatime

 

[Darth Stolas]

When Emryc turned him back to look at him, Morgan didn't resist his touch. His golden eyes sparkled gently with the touch of tears that beaded at the corners and along the bottom, a single droplet trailing down his cheek. The lines of his eyes were already beginning to turn red from the effort of not doing exactly what he was doing. But Emryc only had a few moments to take it in and ask his questions.

"I-"

Before the ship interrupted them both. Morgan was flung from the couch alongside Emryc, twisting himself in the air and holding the hallikset tight against his chest. His back impacted the wall with a grunt of pain and bounced heavily to the floor shoulder first, rolling over onto his back. He hissed in pain, almost snake-like, and quickly moved to get to his feet while his back protested the movement. He looked down at the hallikset. Safe. Good.

He'd heal, he was fine. He rushed up and left the instrument on the floor, running past Emryc and sliding into the chair with another hiss and wiping a sleeve against his reddened eyes. The ribs on his left side ached and his back shied away from the touch of the chair. All the same, it was time to work.

Morgan's expression started shifting back to the ingrained military chill as his hands moved across the controls, switching powers systems over from lightspeed to sublight. Sensors lit up and he began his approach to Bespin, leveling out the Lady Lucy and aligning it to properly dive into the planet's atmosphere.

There was a shift in momentum as they hit it, but only a small one. The inertial dampeners in the Kazellis really were amazing. They began the approach to Cloud City from a respect and frequently mandated distance and Morgan began to send off the approach signal to the city's wing guard. They didn't like unexpected guests of any kind, even if it was a friendly ship.

Morgan cleared his throat. "Sorry. My fault," he said softly, though the mild warmth in his voice didn't match his expression this time.

@Sreeya

 

[Emryc Thorne]

Emryc said nothing the entire time Morgan manually lowered the ship. Anger roiled beneath the surface, just barely simmering and threatening to spill over. He would never forget that gaze from Morgan, the way his eyes held surprise and the tears that just barely spilled. It was how they looked when he faltered just a bit. Emryc wanted to see it again. He quickly refocused his mind, remembering the question he asked. The question that went unanswered. Nostrils flared, jaw tightened. He despised it when questions nagged at him.

He said nothing in response to the vague apology, his gaze fixed ahead at Cloud City. The ship was parked and the engines were switched off, and still no words were exchanged. Emryc unbuckled himself and rose from his seat, not waiting for Morgan as he made his way down the ramp.

Emryc barely made it out before a man with a datapad approached him. He eyed both Sith before glancing down at the datapad.

“You are late,” He said gruffly. He looked from the datapad back to the men, “And you two look different than the last faces I saw,” The second sentence grumbled under his breath, just barely audible as he looked at the datapad again.

@Mr. Teatime

 

[Darth Stolas]

Emryc was being quiet. He could feel the anger, hear in the way he moved. But he didn't look over. He didn't want to answer his question, didn't want to face that anger and the knife sharp words. But he also did, in his own way. But not now. It was time work.

Morgan got up to follow, retrieving his coat from the table where it had moved from the couch in the transition to realspace and slipping it over his shirt and told Dante to pack the hallikset away while he was at it. He smoothed it over and pulled it tight, adjusted his hair with a pocket comb to look more like he'd come out of hyperspace rather than slammed into a wall, and went down the exit ramp.

He stepped up to the grumpy looking man, asserted a charming and slightly apologetic grin across his face, and handed over a stack of three small aurodium coins along with a datacard.

"Apologies for the bad timing, friend. Had to get things sorted after a changing of the guard. You know how tedious paperwork can be," he replied back smoothly. A code phrase had been hidden in there, since whatever dockworker at this particular landing area should be on the orders of the dockmaster. Though he wasn't exactly looking forward to meeting Dorian again, it was necessary here.

The man with the datapad regarded the card and coins for a second and then grunted in a satisfied way, scooping the coins into a pocket and running the card through his pad.

"You got what he's expecting?" "Of course, of course. My word is kept, sir."

The man grunted again and handed the card back and waved them on with a lazy swing of his arm. "He'll be waiting. Don't be late this time." Morgan tilted his head and smiled, slipping the card back into a jacket pocket.

"Many thanks, friend. Have a pleasant day," he finished and then turned to look at Emryc, nodding toward the hallway into the city before moving off into it.

"C'mon. We've got an appointment to keep."

@Sreeya

 

[Emryc Thorne]

Emryc fell into step beside Morgan as they parted from the dockmaster. He was still relatively in the dark about the mission, but sometimes that was simply how Sith operated. There was a beep as his and Morgan’s datapads buzzed. He glanced down and saw some new intel come in, suggesting the Sith knew they had checked in. Always being watched. He was used to it.

There were two names - Avis Morag and Tilla Vin. They were two council members and the data had some additional information next to their names. According to this, Avis Morag was reportedly attending a party tonight with a woman that was not his wife. The notes for Tilla were simply that she was alone in her home.

From the looks of it, the job entailed both figures needing to be removed in one way or another. Emryc glanced up at Morgan, “A party or a home visit,” He muttered, having to shake his head at the crude nature of Sith missions statements sometimes. It sounded so simple - both aimed at ruining the lives of the two names listed.

“Which do you want to hit first?”

@Mr. Teatime

 

[Darth Stolas]

Morgan looked down at his datapad and considered the contents for a short time, walking at an even pace. Of course they were here too, eyes on the pair again. He swiped through the information impassively and took in the little details. There were precious few as it was. Oddly typical for something like this. Overly complicated planning had too many moving pieces.

He turned to look at Emryc, chewing on one of his meat snacks. He'd swiped the bag from the table on his way out, having otherwise forgotten to eat any of the meal his metabolism required. Morgan swallowed and looked back down at the datapad. Two targets, two different circumstances. Not to mention Dorian, at some point or other. Recalling their last encounter brought a flash of frosty anger and a narrowing of the eyes that passed a moment later.

"I think a house call is in order," he said, though with the tiniest edge to the otherwise unbothered tone. It was gone the next he spoke.

"More time to work, less to go wrong. Hypothetically."

Another snack and then he looked back up from the datapad and stepped off. The two of them would pass easily through a security checkpoint manned by Wing Guard, neither of them even armed at the moment. Or at least, not in a way they could find. After they'd passed out of earshot he blinked, then turned to look at Emryc again.

"Did you have a preference?"

@Sreeya

 

[Emryc Thorne]

Emryc didn’t miss how Morgan nibbled on his snacks and had a slight edge to him. He briefly guessed that the man was still hungry for meat and dipping into that primal side of him. While fascinating, it did mean that Emryc had little desire to smell like food.

Procuring a speeder after they were finally out was simple enough and Emryc agreed on the house call at first. He privately guessed maybe Morgan could raid a fridge to keep the hangry away. The address was several miles away and Emryc decided to drive this time.

The house in question was actually a gated manor with cameras up front. Emryc parked a distance away, getting out under the cover of night as he gazed at said manor. He grimaced at the sight, bringing up a bandana to cover his face. Emryc shrugged in case Morgan asked, “I plan on having a career in politics at some point.”

He stepped towards the area, looking for any simple ways in undetected. Tilla Vin being alone in her home was a moot point if said home was a fortress. Emryc could make out two guard dogs in the distance that were sitting very still.

“Hey look… you may be able to eat Tilla and blame it on the dogs,” He said encouragingly.

@Mr. Teatime