Stepping from Darth Embrus’ chambers lifted an oppressive weight from Kutar’s haggard shoulders. For so long the he’d wasted away in the dark recesses of his own mind, dreading the inevitable, sixteen long years of dedicated service wasted. So long had he been training under Darth Embrus he still recalled when his master was known as Lord Vhil Raszac, and he Kutar was his first and only apprentice. Nothing could be worse than losing his honored place in Embrus’ hall, a fate he’d come so close to knowing, yet in somewhat painless fashion it’d been scrubbed away.. For all the burdensome preconditions looming overhead, necessary to avoid a similar conversation in the near future, Kutar no longer fretted the simple journey laid before him. The mission had high stakes, and a plethora of opportunities for failure no doubt, but those were not ordained. Force of will, wit, and strength of arms were the path forward now, and Kutar did not doubt himself in those regards. No, the greater concern on Kutar’s mind was the mammoth task he would rather ignore altogether. As Tishombra had intoned, the cultivation of his influence. Pleasing the Dark Council, or even just a few of the members while becoming a recognizable name to the others would be an acceptable start, but that was only the first and smallest hurdle to overcome. The enormous undertaking, and all the complications it entailed replaced the mental burden he’d just been relieved of, nearly bending him under its pressure. How could he possibly fulfill his master’s demand to his lofty satisfaction?
“Lord Zema,” he tested the title in a whisper, tasting the flavorless and pointless formality on his tongue. That would be his end goal, however unwanted it was. For a moment, in the unfairness of it all Kutar felt an unusual anger flourishing, one he wasn’t sure even existed before but now there was no denying its presence. So engrossed was he in his thoughts Kutar failed to notice the approaching back of Tishombra until he nearly ran her over, stopping at the last moment and glancing down at the younger apprentice before him. Darth Embrus’ favored, he reminded himself his jaw clenching in remembrance of his anger he’d been forced to conceal in his master’s presence. For a second Kutar contemplated revealing he would be joining her, but he resisted the urge, forcing himself to remain courteous, as one should be to the master’s favored.
“Tishombra, I imagine you are off to prepare for your mission, I wish you good fortune. Our Master has made it most clear he is pleased with your progressing skills, and I have no doubt you will be met with success, if you have earned his confidence so convincingly.” Every flattering word was spoken through semi-clenched teeth, that resembled both a smile and a snarl. Turning his face away so it would not betray him Kutar fell into step beside her, slowing his own pace to match hers.
Tishombra had paused in the hall to look out the window at the Korriban landscape. Kutar’s shuffling to not run into her brought her around to the present and she turned as he addressed her. She tilted her head spilling her hair over her slim shoulder.
“Do I detect jealousy Kutar?”Tishombra strolled down the corridor her tread measured and easy more to aggravate her companion and draw him out.
“If? Oh, there is no if about my having earned the Master’s confidence. I’m here after all, that should tell you something. Little piece of free advice Kutar. Your words are sweet but your tone is bitter. Fix it, or you may not come back alive from the Master’s presence the next time. I may yet have the opportunity to watch the light fade from your amber eyes. Even Shiygo might live longer than you at the rate you’re going. And that would be a pity.” Tishombra’s strides lengthened and she grinned as she waited for Kutar’s response.
Unable to suppress a rumbling laugh Kutar came to a halt, allowing Tishombra to gain several paces on him as he shook in genuine merriment. The absurdity of it astounded him, her honest self-assurance on these matters left him in a state of uncharacteristic mirth, if only for a few moments. Shaking his great head Kutar strode to catch up, struggling to regain his somber composure, wondering if the ‘advice’ he’d just received was told in a serious manner, or if she was once again playing with him, trying to ruffle his nerves. If the latter was the case it’d resulted in the opposite effect on the normally no-nonsense warrior, leading to a hint of admiration in his low tones. “I will admit it, I am somewhat envious of your confidence Tishombra, you do not seem the one to flaunt yourself without good reason, though I have never been the most capable at reading people. Our Master chose well, I think. Still, you musn’t doubt my ability to survive the Master’s presence, as it happens I have served him longer than you’ve been wielding your lightsaber. Should I have been a lesser apprentice I doubt at this very moment I would be speaking to you, or anyone else for that matter. As you said, I am here after all, and that should tell you something.”
Tishombra raised an eyebrow at the laughter.
So he does have a sense of humor. How droll. Her grin as he caught up spoke of mischief. She watched as he caught up and gracefully moved over a bit so that he could walk beside her. She raised an eyebrow at the admiring turn that his tone took on.
Envious? And he said that he doesn’t know how to suck up?!Laughing softly and seductively Tishombra tossed her hair off her shoulders to spill down her back with a soft whisper as it settled on to her back.
“That, my dear Kutar, tells me that the Prodigal Son returns. You may have been serving the Master longer than I but you’re not as venerable as you put on. I don’t doubt your ability to survive. I simply point out that there are only so many chances. Besides, you have no idea how old I really am. Unless of course you’ve done your homework. Which if you have you’d know that I would be a good... person to have on your side.”Smoothly Tishombra cut in front of Kutar facing him she invaded his space.
“Flattery is nice but I prefer a sparring partner that knows what they’re doing. One tires of fellow Apprentices that need help to win a fight in practice. Plus all the in fighting.” She rolled her eyes and stalked around Kutar. She made sure she wasn’t touching him but she was so close that it could have been mistaken for a much more intimate conversation.
She came back around and looked up at him from under her lashes.
“Favors go a long way in my book.” Tishombra smiled impishly.
“One needs only eyes to see what is right in front of them.” He responded in due fashion, folding his hands behind his back. Their physical differences in vertical dimensions kept them apart, but had they been on equal footing they would have been nose to nose. Distinctly uncomfortable with the close near-contact Kutar side-stepped around Tishombra, putting his back to her as he stared out a nearby window, as if transfixed by the going-ons down below. Not for the first time that day Kutar felt out of his depth, outmatched by someone who knew how to needle and prod at the nexu, just enough to irritate the beast into lunging forward into the waiting trap. He’d seen it often enough by the fighters in the slave battle pits, and now Tishombra used it against him, manipulating him to where she wanted him to be. Never in a thousand years would Kutar expect her, a Sith pureblood to truly fancy the aging son of a slave, brought high only by the chance of the force. He banished the notion the moment the longing stirred in his chest. It was an act, a strategy or ploy well planned and executed but flawed by its very nature. He would have to play into her game Kutar realized, this was a fight he could not win, but he could still gain.
“I am not one to make promises idly, or to shirk from my word.” He assured her at long last, turning from the aperture. “As it happens, we may be getting to know each other rather well over the next couple weeks, as obligations demand. Darth Embrus has allowed me to accompany the mission and lend my support. You’ll get your boon, and a ‘sparring’ partner as well if you so desire. What I ask in return? Well, you were present, you know what I need.”
Tishombra watched Kutar side step her and she turned to watch his back. He was unnerved by her being so close? Tishombra smirked at the thought.
“Well we shall see if you can take advantage of the opportunities that come available. Tell me what is your greatest strength, Kutar?”Tishombra was curious as to what his answer would be. She moved beside him, also looking out the window. She wasn’t as close and crowding him as earlier but she was close enough that she couldn’t be ignored. She leaned a hip on the ledge and turned her body toward him keeping her face in profile.
For many moments as the silenced held between them, and the question hung heavy on the atmosphere Kutar considered scorning her inquiry outright. It was an unexpected query, and put on the spot Kutar did not possess a clear answer to give. He wondered at her reasons behind the question, whether it was pointed or well considered. Did she plan on using his answer against him? Or was it mere curiosity fueling her? Of the two Kutar could not determine and he hesitated to put thoughts to words, hating how even her simple questions racked him with doubt and suspicion. “We are not so close as to share such secrets, are we?” He asked, caution edging his voice. “Would you be willing to reveal your greatest weakness unto me?”
Tishombra raised an eyebrow.
“Your greatest weakness was plain for all to see. You have already revealed it. But whether or not you answer is irrelevant. Play to your strengths, or don’t. Your choice. I always change the game if it isn’t to my liking.” She smirked turning her face toward Kutar.
“I dare you to ask me how I manage that.”
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