The indigo-eyed warrior cast a briefly reverent look ShaRhylla's way, then settled a meaningful gaze upon Erik.

"Take a care as to how you refer to our Dark Lady," he rumbled in warning before cutting his eyes back toward the others. A frown creased his brows.

...at least, mostly. And then he decided to run with a thought that popped into his head, for better or worse. "The former Dark Lady kept the company of humans as well, you know."

Quieting at that, Erik's brown eyes briefly wandered to ShaRhylla, then cut back to the apple-eyed Sith, something not-quite-readable swimming deep in their depths.

--------------------

Leerka pulled her hand away and let it fall to her side.

"I am a lady-in-waiting; I attend to the desires of the Dark Lady and her entourage," she explained. She looked into Sarisa's eyes, only to see puzzlement reflected there. Frowning in thought, she struggled on.

"It was the desire of the Dark Lady that I become companion to you, to answer your questions, to show you our temple, to introduce you to our way of life.

"So, the way this works, then... I would need to charge to the Dark--"

The door to the lounge opened again, and Panthar turned to look at the new occupants. His surprise was only slightly stifled, and he quickly turned his head back to the bar maid.

Holy crap, it's that guy who stole the Finger! What in the blazes is he doing here? From the looks of it, here for a hot date. But if he stole the finger, and now Roan has it... then he either gave it to Roan or Roan took it from him. Since this guy is still alive, I assume that Roan didn't force it from him. But this is not making a lot of sense, why would he be showing his face here? Wait! He must not know that Gray is alive, that has to be it! And he is here to -- to what? To find a cute floozy and move into the temple? Ha! Naw, if he was in league with Roan then he'd probably be under Roan's control, to somehow influence things for the big guy. And if I were Roan, the place I would start would be right at the top, by getting control of the Dark Lordship for real. But that position is being usurped by ShaRhylla, who would be human. This lady looks more like a weird cross between a girl and a demon... sexy demon, but still. So here is that kid, walking through the temple like he owns it, dragging along some demon chick from the Darker Realms, thinking he can just walk right in take over? He'll probably be making a move to kill ShaRhylla or something, which wouldn't break my heart, but that would somehow benefit Roan and make Gray pretty sad, too. So what do I do?

Panthar chewed his lower lip, then looked at the bar maid.

"Hold that thought," he said, winking.

He slid quietly from his barstool and walked to the table where Erik was sitting with his new friends. He stood at the end of the table and leaned in slightly.

"Hey," he said to the nearest Sith. "Greetings, guys. Is this human bothering you?"

He winked.

"Before you eat him, would you mind if I asked him something?"

--------------------

The indigo-eyed one swept his deep, dusky orbs up and down Panthar's hulking form, noting the sharp curve of his horns, the glistening tips of his razored claws, the innocent look in his eye...

He snorted, throwing himself back into his seat again.

"Be my guest," he growled, following this by snatching up his empty glass and waving it about. The barmaid appeared as if by magick, jostling Panthar a bit to one side as she batted her hot pink eyes at the indigo-eyed warrior.

Another magickal event: the empty glass was suddenly replaced by one brimming over with intoxicating Sith brandy... one which brought along its friends as two more brimming glasses materialized in front of the apple-eyed Sith and Erik as well.

There was even a glass sitting on the end of the table in front of where Panthar stood. It shimmered verdantly at him.

The barmaid batted her lashes again, and then directed a sweet stare to all present.

"Let's keep it friendly, boys." But only her eyes were smiling as she directed a glance into each and every pair of before her, going so far as to tap Panthar on his shoulder so as to directly stare into his face too.

...but the Tattoo was no longer just that of the Sorceror's clan, as it had been in her past dreams. The tattooo was very similiar to that of the Sorcerors...

...and the warriors...

...and the amorers as well. The Sith again beckoned, his look troubled, sad ,intense. And quite suddenly, for the first time ever, Shayla heard threee words whispered from the Sith, or perhaps just from the wind.

But somehow Shayla knew it was more than the stuff dreams were made of.

She needs you, it whispered. It is your True Potential...

... She needs you...

And at that, Shayla sat straight up in bed, her greeny-blue eyes suddenly clear and alert.

Who needed her? Something was going to happen...perhaps it was already happening?

Shaking herself from her thoughts then, Shayla turned to look at the empty spot where Erik should have been sleeping.

She frowned at that, sensing something else not quite right, and got up from the bed, dressing herself and heading out of the room altogether to trace the one person she would want to talk to about all of this, the one person who wasn't there.

Her husband. As she traversed through the corridors of the Temple she found herself winding through to the Dining Hall, then to the back doors where the lounge was.

He was there, she could feel him. And he was....

...angry?

Frowning again at that, Shayla opened the doors leading to the lounge, stepped inside...

...and froze as her eyes landed on the sight of her husband, surrounded by two sitting Sith, and one very familar standing one.

[ 01-23-2006 10:05 PM: Message edited 1 time, lastly by Shayla Stargazer Petrolu ]

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"You know," He said, smiling as they took their joint sips of the brandy. ", We made quite the appearance I do believe. So why is it that you have secreted us away here? Are you afraid of the masses? Or am I just that handsome?"

The vain final comment was said lightly, with little too NO conviction as he took another sip, already finding himself, miraculously, developing an anti-taste for the addictive liquor as he set the goblet down.

"Perhaps it ruins the mood we have so delicately created, but I wish to speak of buisiness." He sat upon one of the many cushioned chairs, and watched as she naturally did the same.

"Our, well no, -I should say your- father has entrusted us with a great duty. We of course, anticipate no failure in accomplishing it, but of course, things are rarely if ever, according too plan. I wish to know your opinion upon how we should go about committing too this task."

--------------------

She set the glass upon the table with a definitive thump, then arranged herself nicely against the pillows of the private booth they were seated in.

"Oh, I suppose we will just go through the Bonding Ritual, as do any others when they formally mate," she said breezily, one hand reaching up to toy with a tendril of her hair. Her eyes moved to the wrist of that upraised hand, studied the sigil emblazoned there, glittering and black.

The twinned mark of the Houses of Recinis and Roan.

"We shall lay wrists upon one anothers', thus sharing our Tattoos of Entitlement -- you do bear one, don't you?"

Interrupting herself with that she peered intently at Rykounagin, but catching a quick glance of the marks he bore, she settled back with a grunt of approval.

"Then I suppose I'll have to challenge Mother for the Clanship; oh bother these silly rites and rituals anyway!"

--------------------

He smirked. "Yes, the hastle that they are indeed. Still, challenging your mother will be quite difficult... and well, I dare not challenge your father- shade or not."

Laying his arm gently upon the place between them, it seemed clear he acknowledged the idea of mixing the marks. "of course as you know, entitlement is just but one of the marks I carry." It was a thing one quickly forgot while in his company, but he was still traced from head too toe with tattoos, save his face where they had somehow receeded.

"Still, I have confidence in your ability to usurp your "mother"." he chuckled at the irony that it would be his fiance and her daughter killing or besting her, rather than any other way of him doing it.

It was all too delicious.

--------------------

“Friendly is good,” he said. “I’m all about friendly. And thank you!”

Panthar took the glass in hand and raised it into the air between the two Sith in the booth.

“Here’s to long life, good friends, and hoping to hell that you’re doing the right thing”

He lifted the glass to his lips and slammed the contents, then set the empty glass down heavily on the table. He then felt a sudden warmth take over his innards, and slid less than gently down into the booth next to the indigo eyed Sith.

“Sorry,” he said. “I’ll just be a minute. This, um, human has some worth to me.”

Panthar leaned into the center of the table, closer to Erik.

“You see that couple over there? Isn’t that the guy who stole the Finger from the Dark Lady? It looks like he’s brought something with him from the Darker Realms.”

A bubbling began in Panthar’s gut, and he could feel the impending need to belch. He turned his head away from the others and let loose with a short blast that seemed to kill all living organisms in his mouth. He winced and looked around to see if he had attracted attention. Fortunately the boy and his demon lady were engrossed in one another, and the only other patron had just entered the doorway and was too busy looking around to notice.

He turned back to Erik.

“Sorry about that,” he said. “It’s been a while since I’ve had a drink.”

His mind switched gears, the image of the person in the doorway finally hitting. He turned his head back to the door, and sure enough, it was Shayla. He blinked several times, opened his mouth as if to speak, waved his fingers at her, put one to his lips, then turned back to Erik.

“Anyway, is that him?”

--------------------

ShaRhylla grinned, albeit a touch shakily, and her eyes darkened with a deep, darker emotion that tried to claw its way past that smile.

"He's dead."

Now she stared down at the tabletop, directing her next comments toward it.

"The one who killed him, this-- this Phalomir..."

Again she cut herself off, biting the words sharply between her fangs.

"As far as I know there is no Dark Lord of the Warriors at the moment. Not a true one, at any rate."

She raised her head, stared Rykounagin straight in the eye.

"By challenging and defeating Mother, I would become Dark Lady--"

Since my ruse failed... she thought to herself.

"--and by bonding with me you would become Dark Lord, with no one to challenge you."

Giving her head a little nod, she took another sip of her drink. Her bi-colored eyes roved down from Rykounagin's face, staring over the rim of her glass to fasten upon his arm which he laid upon the table. A portion of it was exposed; setting her drink down, she then reached out and began tracing one pearly claw along an unfamiliar sigil.

"What do these marks mean?" she asked, lidding her eyes as she stared up at Rykounagin once more.

"I know these are of meaning to the Cult Assassins, quaint beings that they are and of no concern to me--"

She paused abruptly, her eyes widening as she realized the faux pas she had just made.

"I mean, the others have no meaning to me; it would appear that you are making a bit more of an impression than ever you did."

A new look crept into her eye, one coy and bashful and alarmingly dangerous. Catching her lower lip between her fangs, she cocked her head, her eyes now flicking upward. Her next breath caught in her throat.

"This should have no further meaning as well..."

The move as swift as it was unexpected, she reached out and began to trace the mark she had placed upon Rykounagin's forehead. Her touch was feather-light, yet burned with the fury of a distant sun.

When she removed her hand, the brand was gone, leaving a strangely pale and vulnerable spot upon the lad's face. She eyed her handiwork a moment, then boldly stared Rykounagin straight in the eye again.

"Tell me more of these others," she repeated, softening the command into a request as she continued to idly trace the strange markings upon his arm.

[ 01-24-2006 01:34 PM: Message edited 1 time, lastly by ShaRhylla ]

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As her finger reached each new marking, Rykounagin began to relate the meaning of the different markings too her.

"The first one was of entitlement too my Lotus, the sigil showing that I had master the summoning and usage of said sword. And that one there is one of the many that represents a member of the ancient clans, and that-"

He paused as her finger traced another: "Is too honor the origonal sith who gave us the power to use the magics of his abandonned people. The next one represents the first two of my extremely long line, who formed the first bloodbonded creation of the cult."

He continued at this for quite some time, smiling faintly as he shared old and forbidden things with this curious woman he now seemed to be readying to share his life with.

"But that one..." He said, slowing as her finger came to a circular spiral along his right elbow. "...I do not recall."

He lost the solemnity of that awkward moment and then smiled. "Still, it would take hours upon hours too relate the meaning of them all, and a less thorough dressing at that."

--------------------

A sudden silence ensued, one swiftly filled by the murmurs of the other patrons, and the muted clink of glasses. Then she tossed up her head, tossing her hair again and sat back.

"Father must have some sort of.. plan, for him to have sent you to me with the announcement that he wished us to wed," she said in introduction. She pinned her fiance with a steady look.

"Did he say anything of this to you when you-- visited him in..."

She came to a stumbling halt as the meaning of what she was saying came crashing into her brain.

Her dear, beloved father was dead. Yet Rykounagin had apparently spoken with him. He had the tattoo of the House of Roan upon his wrist as proof that he had met with him--

But... when he had first come to Phrinnchatka, before she knew that her father was dead, hadn't he claimed to be the son of Lord Aelvedaar? Wasn't that what he had told her?

A genuine frown of puzzlement creased her features as she spoke up once more, bringing these incongruities to her future husband's ears.

"How can this be?" she finished, not being baughty or imperial in the slightest.

"For my father is dead-- I do so miss him..."

With that she fell silent, turning her face down once more to hide the damning tears now welling into her eyes. The last thing she wanted was to appear weak before Rykounagin, expecially after how she had treated him in the past.

--------------------

"A complicated tale it is I can tell you... But I am sure you will meet with him soon, and he shall be glad too see you- dark lady of the Warriors." He smiled and stroked her cheek with the back of his fingers gently.

"I am sure he wishes he could join you on our bonding day, and the day that you ascend too ladyship, but he is locked in that realm. A pity, but a truth."

He put two fingers under her chin and lifted her head gently. "It is a sensitive thing I know, but you are stronger than that. But still-" He closed his eyes at himself saying this: "-everyone has a right too cry."

--------------------

He trailed, knowing that perhaps the two warriors were trying to listen in and while he was trying to get across a very important message. So, whispering, he finished with, "That's the... Dark Lady."

--------------------

“That’s not Graysith,” he said absently. He turned back to Erik with an inquisitive look, then his eyes widened with realization.

“Oh… OH!”

Panthar leaned in and pointed his finger at Erik.

“You mean it’s that little usurping needleworm daughter of the Dark Lady?”

Panthar could feel the heat rising from the Sith sitting next to him. He turned to the warrior, a nonchalant look on his face.

“What, you don’t know what’s been going on? Didn’t they tell you guys yet?”

--------------------

She let one hand drift up to lightly touch his face in turn.

"I-- I feel you never have..."

She trailed, feeling a quick flash of uncharacteristic pain rush through her. Then, suddenly embarrassed, she pulled away and reached for her drink, hiding her face behind her goblet and her hair.

--------------------

Just as in the case of a geyser, a violent eruption was imminent.

Luckily, the lumbering Panthar had managed to stumble upon words to put the lid back on the pot again, if only momentarily.

The indigo-eyed Sith flowed smoothly to his feet, his sword appearing as if by magic at Panthar's throat. It was pressed there quite steadily, for the warrior's other hand had the other behind the head, pushing his throat against the naked, shining blade.

"Haven't I heard what?" he growled, his fangs glistening.

"No one speaks of the Dark Lady with such disrespect; speak the words you hint at, fool, and you shall be allowed to live a few precious moments longer!"

Panthar blinked, shuddering a little.

“Oh heck,” he said, now trembling slightly. “I guess not. Um… well, this is privileged information at this point, but, um, Graysith isn’t dead. Right, Erik?”

--------------------

"Does he speak the truth?" he asked Erik, though his eyes never left those of the Sith in his hands.

"Does the former Dark Lady truly live?"

On the other side of the booth the apple-eyed Sith shifted a little, and a wicked-looking knife found its way first to his hand, then to Erik's throat. As if mimicking the other, the warrior quickly placed his other hand behind Erik's head, holding it steadily against the blade, while his eyes burned like green fire into those of the jedi.

The entire tableau remained frozen, caught between one moment and the next... and what the next moment would bring with it was anybody's guess.

He smiled faintly as he responded simply, in a way that showed that there seemed to be no other way to have truth: "Some of us are not made to cry."

The moment was tender, honest- a thing that seldom ever occured in the best of couples, and in this one-?

Impossible.

He looked into the curious pools of her eyes for a moment, then closed his eyes and looked out to the bar, and saw another human, and three sith in some sort of... tensed situation.

"Interesting..." he murmured. "I wouldn't think to find other humans here... I didn't think they were usually allowed, let alone even aware of this place..."

--------------------

"Yes," Erik replied simply, hoping not to upset the Sith any further than they obviously already were, "It's true."

--------------------

She doubted Erik or Panthar had intentionally brought this upon themselves. Still, there were two sides to every coin. What had upset the Sith so much?

"Let them go, please," she then spoke up evenly, surprisingly calm. "What have they done?"

Knowing it would be a foolish and altogether dangerous move to try telekentics on the Sith's swords, Shayla merely stood unmoving then, considering just what else she might do to get her husband and Panthar out of this predicament if the Sith refused to back down.

[ 01-27-2006 11:29 PM: Message edited 1 time, lastly by Shayla Stargazer Petrolu ]

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The indigo-eyed one only darkened further. He loomed over the table like a thundercloud, staring at each and every one present before turning to take in the form of the newcomer.

A young woman. Weak.

Dismissing her, he turned back to the others with a snarl.

"Why should we believe the word of a non-Sith?" he growled at Erik before he turned once again to Panthar. His fist tightened into a knot against the back of his head.

"And you-- I don't know what you are; you are no warrior, that is a fact!"

His lips curled in derision and he spat directly into Panthar's face.

Panthar blew out with his lips, this making a floppy “brrrrrrr” sound as the air flapped his lips about. A small bit of spit landed on the warrior's neck.

“Hey, will you please take this sword down? If I’m no warrior, then I don’t pose a threat to you, right?”

[ 01-27-2006 11:37 PM: Message edited 1 time, lastly by Panthar Dantares ]

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