[b]Pestage's Folly[/b]
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As the world went dark, Miryia stood in the middle of the room, in the chaos. Blaster bolts and debris danced around her and yet seemed to warp, as the woman channeling the force in ways she hadn't in months, allow every cell of her being to become infused with the raw essence. the power that she proceeded to refine and craft, allowing her skill and experience to form a low level EM field about her form that kept her from being hit by blaster bolt, for in her arrogance she refused to dodge. A broken bottle and a bloody skull, weaponry dancing about her, fire and smoke and pure chaos. Chaos, with a purpose, chaos controlled, chaos ordered, the overt contraction whose overlap allowed for the proliferation of civilization, of life.  -I would control the chaos with order, Sidious wished to unleash that chaos without any foresight- and this, macabre stalemate and revilization had been brought about in part by her own actions, her own plans, which had...Her mind trailed off, fury, regret and disgust filling her mind as she beheld the end results of her long sleep, her inattentiveness. "I was so close" she whispered, so close and yet so far. Unless? 

Something pressed against her back and she realized Grand Admiral Octavian grant realized she was one of the safest spots to be near and so nearly leaned against her, lazily picking off stragglers, wounded, or people foolish to try and shoot them both. "your offer was stimulating" whatever was passed between them remained hidden and for a time the Jedi gazed at the Bothan and his dutiful bodyguard, who had managed to impress Miryia with her tireless defense of the lunatic was merely enjoying the show and marveling at his work? Miryia allowed a slight smile to gut at the corner of her lips -You used me, but you knew well enough to give me an opening- a credit to his race, to be sure..She would have to pay him back, he was certainly proving to be interesting. Utter chaos as a clusterkriff burned itself out and the dust began to settle as power was rerouting and lighting began to slowly crawl back into utility, displaying a grizzly bed of carnage and gore and the dead and dying. To her surprise, not only had Grand Moff Hissa managed to survive but it had seemed as though he did a fairly good job of competing with Karius in body count and Miryia gave both men a nod, with her eyes lingering on Karius for a fraction of a second longer. Her people survived it seemed as had the other Viper in the room who now found herself standing among the ruins of nearly all her professional rivals and with several declared allies including one of her own who had also chosen to support Isard. Miryia cast her a courteous nod and then a challenging look before she turned and walked passed Phasma and the Bothan, her hand clasping Phasma on the shoulder "You do your master a credit" she walked passed the woman towards the wreckage, surveying more of the dead including a Moff who suffered a shattered arm for grabbing her rear at a function a month ago. Gilad Pellaeon rose, managing to keep uniform immaculate and unwrinkled even as he jumped for cover.


The woman beside him had fire in her eyes but she was the dutiful second, a sense of awareness possessed her sight and she stood protectively beside Gilad as if to defend her Admiral should the Jedi turn her wrath towards him. "You may stand down, your Admiral is a patriot and I would sooner cut off my own arm than hurt him" she turned regarding Phasma as if to say the same applied to Raveem, for the time being any way, only the passage of more months and years would reveal to her what she should ultimately do with both men. A scream rang out, everyone turned to see the Bothan fall, a look of theatrical horror passed over Miryia's face. Which quickly turned to a soft chuckle as he "rose from the dead" to put a venomous dart in the throat of the man who'd just tried to kill him. The Jedi watched Grand Admiral Pitta die, her eyes flickering as she extended her awareness into his being, sensing how the poison killed him . "Quite impressive, director general"

Now, it came time to get to the heart of the matter as the whimpering pleas of the a thing who fancied itself a man. A flicker of Miryia's fingers forced the disreputable dimwit up, she forced to sit upon the chair once again, that silly thing Pestage mistakenly believed gave him power. "Mercy?" her eyes flickered with malice and indignation, as if she'd waste time torturing this simple fool who was beneath the insects. "Mercy? Well, I [i]am a Jedi Knight[/i], a master of the council no less and I suspect the last one alive in the whole of the Galaxy" she smiled, almost serenely and it was the most disturbing thing Sate Pestage had said. "Yes, I think I shall grant you mercy" Miryia's eyes flickered and she raised a hand and Sate Pestage let out a gurgle as the woman compressed his bones into the chair which broke and bent under the power. As his brain ceased to function the last thing he'd have felt was the collapse of his pelvis and the rupture of all of his lower intestines as she warped the imbeciles throne around his body until it seemingly devoured him.

An apt metaphor.


But she couldn't stop to savor it, she'd torn apart their precious New Order and now it was time to rebuild it. She turned her upperbody, her cloak wrapping about her figure, drops of blood smeared part of her right cheek and some droplets fell into her hair, though nothing in the entire battle had stained her, as if she allowed it to happen, as if she either wished to feel her enemies blood on her or she was simply emphasizing a point. 

Whatever that point was.


"We must replace them, we are surrounded by enemies on all sides even within. But they must not be sycophants. While the New Order was tainted at its birth, this day can become a crucible. We can reorganize, reorder ourselves, refound a dynasty to endure ten thousand years and ten thousand more." idly her hand moved to her lightsaber, it twitched lightly, for she realized she hadn't wielded it in so long. But also, as a soft threat..Unite, rally to the cause and place the cause above yourself. 

Or stand attainted. "I don't want that accursed chair" she added with a sense of certitude. "Grand Vizier is not a position I want"

She paused, allowing the room to grow quiet, allowing the bewildered survivors a chance to process what was coming next "Nor do I desire to be empress, this Galaxy needs a higher calling, a unifying faith in men and women of flesh and bone and soul as well as in an institution. Gentlemen, ladies...you will provide the institution. I shall provide the faith"

Here, she let out a breath...finally, it could begin.


Here, Miryia raised a hand, it sparked with golden lightning but not menacingly, more it seemed to be a beacon, for it drew at last the curious spectators from outside who for some strange reason hadn't noticed the battle until now. 

"Imperial Grand Moff Bertrof Hissa" her voice boomed, holding with it the majesty of a cobra and the intensity of a zealot. "Rise from your seat of carnage Grand Vizier" he'd proven himself adept at navigating the treachery, even if he was an over the top lunatic. He was also, someone who understood when he was being given an ultimatum and one that involved being handed power, even if it might have been illusory. She'd just declared him the head of state, the master of the bureaucracy and any objections any of the surviving Royal guard might have had to her total usurpation of the role of the Sith cult in the order of the Empire died in their throats when they beheld the "chair".

After that, Miryia eyed Raveem "I suppose the rest is up to you, it is not my place to order your entire Government" walking towards the bar she allowed herself a moment of self indulgence. The force swirled around her and a bottle of fine Corellian brandy lifted from one of the shelves. The cork removed itself and two glasses were poured. That was when the arrogant woman finally used her hands, hand the Bothan a drink before taking hers. "You are clever Bothan, clever enough to be worth my gratitude, even if you did use me as a catalyst" rising the woman moved towards the door. 


Before stopping and turning back to Octavian Grant who seemed to gesture towards Gilad Pellaeon. Miryia laughed "Reluctant Admiral, I believe they mean to foist the trappings of power upon your shoulder. Might I suggesting adopting a cape as part of your uniform"