PROPHECY / PANTHEON

She was BRAVE, that was for sure. Foolish in the long run but it was admirable for the moment. Things had changed  since he was last AWAKE. And not for the better in his  opinion. Still, he would not let her deny an answer he was  RIGHTFULLY owed like her ancestors in the past. “Your  ancestors did their jobs.” A glare formed on his features,  taking a few more STEPS towards the smaller female. “I  would know, I was there.” A low growl then escaped his lips knowing the balance would be tipped in the DARK  side’s favor if his question was answered. But that was  the point to all this. “I will PAY any price…” He paused a  moment.”Or I can let you live if you give me what I want.”

    tension  builds  across  her  form.  dominated  in  the  shadow  of  someone  far  older  -  far  wiser  -  the  oracle  merely  looks  like  a  child;  alone  and  burying  her  fear  beneath  layers  of  forced  maturity,  robbed  of  what  so  many  take  for  granted…  but  this  is  not  an  ode  that  calls  for  pity.  rather,  it  is  a  serenade  that  begs  for  rebellion,  her  nails  digging  into  fair  flesh  across  her  palms.  she  wants  to  curse,  to  denounce  her  ancestors,  yet  cannot.  she  knows  their  existence  is  what  has  led  to  her  own,  sith  or  otherwise  -  without  them,  she  dreads  she  may  have  lived  a  perfectly  normal  life. 

    what  a  shame  that  would  be.

An attempt at a nonthreatening expression, one MEANT to attempt a civil conversation now faded with words prompted from the other. He grew serious, more INTENSE as yellow eyes  began to shoot a glare in her direction. “And why would you not  give it to me? Is it not your ROLE to answer questions and be  impartial to all who ASK?” He took several steps towards her,  large frame now looming over the smaller girl. His abilities already  made him formidable, but his SIZE was one used to intimidate and  he used it wisely. “Your ancestors did just that, not afraid to search  for ANSWERS when posed a question.”

    her  expression  contorts  into  one  of  immense  discomfort.  why  modern  conversations  cannot  be  civil  is  a  question  that  will  remain  unanswered  for  the  time  being.  she  laments  the  loss  of  calm  conversations  back  on  her  home  planet  but,  to  her  benefit,  their  absence  has  made  her  better  with  tolerating  the  intolerable.  by  her  own  standards,  it  appears  she’s  landed  herself  in  a  situation  that  calls  her  neutrality  into  question  -  and,  thereby,  brings  about  a  forced  wave  of  politeness.  her  lips  purse  into  a  tight  smile. 

      his  words  strike  her  as  unknowingly  familiar.  a  sensation  that  harkens  back  to  earlier  times;  a  father  all  too  eager  to  know  what  his  fortune  holds,  draping  his  arms  around  her  and  begging  for  some  sign  of  what’s  to  come.  fortune,  fame,  failure  -  he  demands  to  know  it  all  and,  for  his  gluttony,  she  rewards  him  with  stark  silence.  the  same  event  unfolds  in  the  presence  of  a  would-be  king,  her  eyes  glancing  over  the  obsidian  attire  of  a  killer  before  landing  back  where  they  started.  although  her  hands  remain  folded  across  her  lap  -  polite  in  appearance  only  -  there  is  a  certain  harshness  to  her  words  that  can  be  viewed  as  uncharacteristically  cold.  old  memories  and  current  readings  do  not  blend  well  together. 

     ❛  you’ll  find  that,  for  one  such  as  myself,  those  two  concepts  are  the  same.  ❜she  sighs;  her  words  carry  as  an  echo,  vast  and  uninhibited  by  the  slow  droll  of  the  ship’s  ever-present  hum.   ❛  nonetheless,  seeing  the  larger  picture  should  be  of  no  difficulty  for  someone  of  your  caliber.  ❜there  is  no  snide  or  quip  present.  there  is  only  a  piece  of  minimalistic  truth  hidden  under  the  flicker  of  her  gaze  to  the  exit,  then  back  to  him. 

Interesting she should say that, most STAYED on their planet. It was their home, it was safe. It kept them safe  from people like HIM. Though he would not waste such  an opportunity to have found her by chance in a vast  galaxy. “YES you can.” Dagon answered, lessening the  space between them. “You can tell me where the last jedi  are.” 

      there  it  is.  the  prisoner  fresh  from  the  chamber,  the  fire  straight  from  the  scorching  muzzle,  the  reason  she  finds  herself  enduring  this  conversation.  the  other  has  a  purpose     for  her  -  albeit,  one  that  she  has  long  since  come  to  terms  with;  to  find  the  last  jedi,  to  destroy  what  little  remains  of  the  light  through  their  inevitable  destruction.  she  visibly  bristles  when  he  attempts  to  close  the  distance,  yet  does  not  take  a  step  back:  she  has  seen  too  much  to  bend  to  the  will  of  that  daemon,  fear. 

        ❛ no  amount  of  prophetic  visions  could  have  prepared  me  for  how  horrendous  the  first  order  uniforms  are. ❜

@sibylsaid // SC

A FAMILIAR presence in the force caught the Sith’s attention. But when he followed the the feeling to the source, the person was unrecognizable. It was then Dagon realized it wasn’t the  person but WHAT they were. “You kind still exist. How rare.”  Dagon spoke, approaching the smaller female. “An ORACLE  away from their home planet. Odd, don’t you think?”

       to  be  reminded  of  her  origin  is  never  a  pleasant  experience;  although  she  holds  no  true  shame  towards  her  home  planet,  nor  does  she  view  it  as  a  mark  of  grand  importance,  edythe  will  never  be  at  ease  with  where  she  came  from.  greed  flows  from  the  planet  just  as  often  as  galactic  blizzards,  wealth  embroidered  into  her  former  culture  alongside  oracles  and  sibyllines  alike.  nonetheless,  her  attention  falls  on  the  shoulders  of  the  one  who  addressed  her,  and  a  faint  -  albeit  weary  -  smile  graces  her  lips.