[center][i]A Dance With Aera Cura[/i] Part the second [i]Eyes of a goddess, I fall prison to. A heart of a fool, I've been cursed.[/i][/center] [i]Taris - Spire Enclave, Solace's quarters[/i] The scent of slow-burning candles mingled in the air with another smell, one which did not belong, yet with the intoxicating aroma of the tallow, it seemed right. They had been placed throughout the room at what seemed like random intervals at first, but the longer one looked at the erratic patterns, the more it seemed deliberate and precise. Channels of the force ran along the lines drawn between individual candles, the energy subtle and barely there, but when added together into the center of the diagram became a raging torrent center on one individual. She sat there, her robe cast open to bare her self to the one she summoned, both hands held to her side with her palms facing upwards. From her right hand she held a knife, the carved blade still sticky and wet with freshly let blood, her other hand cupping the blood which welled up from her opened palm. "I summon you..." her whisper was low and seductive, pouring her desire to see the being into her ritualized summoning. Slowly, the blood cupped in her hand rose like a snake charmed from its hole, and began to coalesce before her. More drew itself from her palm and from the opened scars across her torso and upper arms, the wounds of years of dedication to this creature opening once more as she gave herself to the creature. Her lips parted in the mixing of pleasure and pain as the creature took what it needed from her and gave form to itself before her in the guise it once knew so long ago. The knife slipped from her hand as she crawled forward to kneel before the creature, touching her forehead to the ethereal boot of the force-ghost and drawing away to look up at the one she summoned. Deep scarring ran across its form, the scars of countless wars and thousands of wounds marred its body, culminating in the face of one who had denied death and drawn power from the pain it inflicted on others and that which it suffered as well. "My lord..." her whisper was one of reverence for this being, this Lord of Pain, one who had rightly died so long ago that memory of his existence was forgotten by all but the most obscure of texts. His name was Sion, and this woman, this dark-jedi, was his, for she had given herself to him willingly and given him of herself a physical presence to interact with her as he saw fit. This time, he looked down upon her with the same disapproving glower he had given her when she first summoned him. Solace remained where she knelt as he reached down and took her by the throat, lifting her to stare directly into her face with his single eye. His grip was solid as he flexed his incorporeal muscles to slowly crush her windpipe, her body shaking as she began to struggle in the grip of the force-ghost she had given form. As her robe fell to the floor, she was finally freed from the grip of Sion, her naked body collapsing as she tried to recover her breath from the assault. "What... Have... I done to displease you, my lord?" She struggled with the words, but fought against the pain, trying to appear strong and not the weak creature she was when she first summoned him. Sion took a step towards her, his ghostly foot crossing the threads of the force which ran between the candles and served to trap him within this room. Despite her loyalty to the dark lord, she was still wary of his power and could not risk him truly gaining a physical presence, knowing that it would ruin the Enclaves if he was to gain power again. "You." his voice was the crack of bone and the ripping of flesh, the spilling of blood and the opening of wounds. Only hate and insanity lurked behind the will of this creature, a sentience driven mad by eons of torment in the aethers of the force and bound to nothing but the whims of eternity. Solace felt a cold chill bore down her spine as he spoke, suddenly realizing that she was in very deep trouble as the dark lord was not merely displeased with her, no, it was [i]furious[/i]. "You have failed to give me a form to stride this galaxy once more in. You have failed to do exactly as I have commanded you, and you still bend knee to a false-sith and hold pretentions that the bond of family is more valuable than what I have given you." Her heart suddenly spasmed as she felt the grip of the dark lord's grasp upon her body, her own life-essence giving him the power to do as he pleased to her. Pain wracked her body as she struggled to endure the pain of her organs slowly failing in the grip of the creature, blood seeping from her mouth as she bent before him once more, trying to show that she was still loyal. As she did so, the pain lessened and slowly she was free of discomfort once more, the force knitting the damage dealt in the ravages of Sion's grip. "Your sister, she is beholden to your master." It was more a statement than a question, a statement that struck her more than the attack itself. "You will strike her down. Her body will be mine, and then I will strike down your master." Reaching down to grip Solace's face, he brought himself low and came barely a breath from her, "Then, I will show you my power in the body of your sister, and we will take what we please from whoever we please. This I give to you." She felt the release of the dark lord as he turned from her and willed himself back into the aethers of the force, his time with her done, and his patience depleted. Solace lay in the bloodstained robes for several minutes before she brought herself back to her knees, tears running down her face even as she swore her loyalty to the dark creature, "Yes, my lord. It will be done..." --- [i]Taris - Spire Enclave, The Great Hall[/i] It had been several hours since Ceres Bannon had been able to reach a compromise with the Black Hand, arranging a meeting between the leadership of the enigmatic group with the leadership of the Tarisian League and the Enclaves themselves. Standing at attention at the entrance to the Enclave from the space-port, Ceres and his honor guard awaited the envoy from the Black Hand, the Tarisian Alor standing beside him in a simple suit and tie, taking a more formal approach to the meeting rather than dressing in the full ceremonial garb his position as governor usually dictated. Then again, Sebastian Erazx was a very practically minded man who cared little for the vagaries of ceremony and much of the politics that came with it. It was not uncommon for him to simply leave a diplomatic proceeding that has taken too long, and on one occasion he was found to have executed a senator for taking too long to explain a new bill. Quick and to the point was his style, and he was as ruthless as he was concise, the countless bureaucrats and executives now homeless in the under-city could attest to that quite bitterly. Ceres quite like the man, and the man did have quite sense of style, his beard trimmed in a mimicry of Mandalorian tribal markings, and the Jaig eyes tattooed above his brow. Certainly a warrior-politician if there ever was such a thing. Across from them was the delegation from the Enclaves, their gracious hosts, and likely the ones to keep some semblance of peace. Solace stood at attention, her grim look casting disdain on everything around her in her typical bitter and spiteful manner. He dearly wished that their master was here, for Solace was notoriously callous and ruthless, far more akin to the Sith of the outer reaches than her sister. If it wasn't for the importance of this meeting, he was sure that she wouldn't be beyond sending the whole party back to the city, with or without a shuttle. She was even dressed for battle, the intricate clasps and plates of the Jedi-Battle armor she wore polished to a sheen and a short-handled lightsaber clasped to her belt in a locked mechanism, to prevent another from pulling it free with the force. Requiem on the other hand, had freely trusted that this was to be a discussion between potential allies, taking it upon herself to dress in an evening gown that flowed down to her ankles. She was clearly unarmed, for anything of the sort would have no place to be clasped, and she had taken a great risk to dress as such. Regardless, her broad smile seemed to ease his fears, an aura of peacefulness exuding from her as she had no fear of what was to happen next. True to their heritage, both sisters wore bands across their eyes, so as not to expose the absence of eyes to their visitors. The twins were also here for the disturbance in the force which had occurred the previous night, one which had unsettled many of the jedi within the Enclave, and made the twins very curious. It seemed as if it was indeed the case that their guests were force-sensitive, something that made the twins very keen to be present to meet them. With little else left, the parties waited for their guests, hoping that what was to come next could bring another ally to the GRM and at the very least form a partnership that both parties would celebrate for a years to come...