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Silence stretched out between the two figures again, a gulf of words permeated by the warning purr of lit sabers. The Jedi's expression remained a mask, not displaying a proper Jedi lack of emotion, but rather a very obvious suppression of the expression of some level of visible emotion. Occasionally, the mask twitched or shifted, revealing that something was occurring beneath it, but it remained more or less in place.
Another Jedi, most other Jedi would have attacked by now, if only out of the expectation that the unknown Sith would no doubt do so at the worst possible time. Corac's sight, however, revealed the undulating blur of past and future all boiling around the figure and its two lit sabers, the lack of movement, the absence of the advance that would force a response. Finally, he began to speak again.
"You are not here to fight me." A simple statement of fact, but at the same time a challenge, something that invited, almost demanded a reply without being aggressive in its own right.
Ryassek studied the Jedi's reaction with as much care as he could, certain as he did so that he was being subjected to an even more intensive study. Such was the reputation of the Jedi for studiousness and calm that it could be no other way, not even if half the stories told were lies, which Ryassek conservatively assumed they were.
Still he did not attack. Not yet at least. There were many possible explanations for why not, some of which corresponded with what he had been taught of Jedi and some of which did not. There was no purpose in playing guessing games as to which one was actually the case. Chaos was a source of strength. It honed one’s ability to improvise.
“I am not here to fight you,” repeated Ryassek in the same flat tone that the Jedi had said it. How the Jedi could discern that was perhaps best left un-asked. He did not let fall his sabres as he said this thing, out of elementary precaution if nothing else, and if the Jedi was stupid enough to read more than that into it, then Ryassek would deal with the consequences. Jedi too needed testing before they could be found worthy. Not every fool with a lightsabre was what he claimed to be, not even among the enemies of the Sith.
“I am searching for a Jedi,” he said. “For a singular purpose. One that is my own until I choose to reveal it. And before I do so, I would know if I have found one. This is not the front lines of the Republic’s armies, nor the Temple of Dantooine. Why should a Jedi be found here?”
This was, without a doubt, the strangest encounter with a Sith that Corac had ever participated in, on either side of the war. Not even the Gelatin Incident could compare. He watched the currents of the future with rapt attention, but as yet, they remained… not tranquil, that word would never fully apply to a Sith under any circumstances, but at least not openly confrontational, and so he continued to stay his hand, hiding away his own gratitude at not being forced into a fight for the moment. Behind the mask of his expression, thoughts flickered, doubts, fears, the continued sparking anger at the Sith holding that particular lightsaber, the sight of the familiar blade lit.
Overlaid across those emotions laid calculation, a connection between two things said by the other figure, and so he again spoke up, his saber blade again gesturing at the stolen hilt.
“You suggested a trade? Extinguish that saber and place it on the floor and I will answer one question of your choosing. From there...we shall see.”
The Jedi gave very little away. This was probably to be expected, given everything, but it made his job more difficult, he realized. When dealing with other Sith, it required no work at all to suss intention and emotional state, for Sith radiated such things like a star. Jedi, he was coming to realize did not, and he was left with nothing to look for but the outward physical appearance, which was of little help when the Jedi in question had no eyes.
He regarded the Jedi’s trophy sabre for a moment, the blood red of it a similar shade to his own. He could feel some form of connection between it and the Jedi, which was puzzling. Perhaps it was latent fear that he was now outnumbered two blades to one, or perhaps it had belonged to a Sith of importance, even a former Jedi? Jedi were, it was said, often tasked with hunting down their fallen brethren, the closer the better. He did not know why.
“A lightsabre for a question?” he asked, permitting himself a smirk. “That is a steep price indeed, Jedi. Are you in possession of wisdom sufficient to render it worthwhile, I wonder?”
He thumbed the toggle on the sabre in question, extinguishing it, though he did not lower it to the ground. Instead he shifted subtly around to present his proper blade forward. He was more comfortable with his own sword in any event, and he could always switch it back on if it came to that.
“My name is Ryassek,” he said. “And I am Sith.” That much the Jedi already knew, but he felt it was best to announce it regardless. “I have come in search of a Jedi for the purposes of determining the answer to a riddle that none have ever answered, and that few enough even possess the wit to ask. I do not believe you know the answer to this riddle, Jedi. But you may have the key to solving it.”
He paused. “But before I can seek this, I must know what will happen if I should choose to drop this sabre? Will you snatch it from the ground and then strike at me with two blades against one?” His smirk became an unsettling smile. “It is not as though we have nothing to concern ourselves with in your presence, Jedi, whatever you may think of us.”
A Sith. To be expected, given...well, a whole host of factors. But a Sith on a journey of personal enlightenment? The Gelatin Incident was, indeed, surpassed by a substantial number of degrees. Corac’s mask slipped enough to show a streak of simple incredulity at the claim for a few seconds before slamming down into place once more.
The Sith’s own question, however, served to focus Corac’s attention on the matter at hand once again. His mouth opened for a moment...and then twisted into the fleeting shadow of a smile for a moment after a brief hesitation before replying, “I have already told you that. You will get to ask a question and receive an answer, and then we will see from there where things go. For someone who believes that ‘Peace is a lie,’ you seem quite...eager to avoid conflict.”
The opening words of the Sith Code...it might be nothing, but they fall a bit too easily from the Jedi’s lips.
“Peace is a lie, Jedi, make no mistake,” said Ryassek, uncertain if the Jedi believed him or not, but at least glad that he hadn’t been laughed out of the room. In the back of his mind had always been the concern that perhaps this wasn’t quite as revolutionary a step as he had thought. Perhaps many Sith got the notion to seek out Jedi and demand answers. Perhaps it was routine.
It did not seem routine. That was good. It meant he was not foreordained to fail, nor to learn things everyone already knew.
“But there are many kinds of un-peace,” he continued. “And only some of them involve the use of sabres. I am not here to avoid conflict, but to test myself by it. There are no shortage of those I can pit my lightsabre against if I should wish, but I am here to hone a different blade entirely, if it can be arranged.”
He looked over the sabre once more, the one taken from Force-knew-what Sith, no longer in existence no doubt. There was no gain without risk.
With one, apparently unconcerned gesture, Ryassek tossed the extinguished sabre down, watching as it rolled to a stop at the Jedi’s feet. His own sabre he kept level, ready for all comers, even as he looked the Miralukan in what would normally be the eye.
“The Jedi have ever defeated the Sith,” said Ryassek with as much steel-concentration as he could. “Since time immemorial, it has been so. Though opposed by passion, rage, and hatred, they have always returned to purge us from the galaxy. And I am here, Jedi, to discover why this is so.”
Tension began to drain from Corac’s body language slightly before the extinguished hilt hit the floor, a distinctly odd reaction to still being in the same room as an armed Sith. The mask slipped again, allowing relief, even a trace of gratefulness to show before the Jedi was able to reestablish its tight, walled control. The blue blade in his own hand moved again, slowly so as not to risk looking like an attack, shifting from an aggressive, pointed pose to a more defensive guard. His head inclined in silent thanks even as the Sith continued to speak.
After the Sith fell silent, the wordless interplay of humming blades stretched out again to fill the pause as the Jedi’s brow furrowed. Seconds passed.
“That...is a question many Jedi Masters would have answered, if only to keep you Sith from killing quite so many of us before failing.” Again, that tick of amusement, even as his voice remained more-or-less even. It was easier, now, with at least one source of tension and conflicting emotion removed from play. “That said, I promised you an ans--”
The light shifted, just slightly. Someone with actual eyes might have called it sunset, or perhaps a redshift if there were near-superluminal velocities involved. Of course someone with actual eyes wouldn't have been able to see it at all, because the merciless flail of Vaganus's sun remained unchanged. To Corac, however, the world around him was suddenly and unceremoniously filmed over in a tone, a color, a suggestion that was new, strange, and not at all welcome. It suggested consumption, the hunt, even a hint of blood...but it was none of those things on its own, and yet drew elements from all of them.
Tension returned, knuckles clenching around the hilt of his own lightsaber, muscles singing with a sudden, renewed flood of adrenaline. The first, the obvious thought, that it was something done by the Sith...no. He would have seen that coming.
This was something new.
Ryassek written by Havoc, of course.
_________________ Chronological Incontinence: Time warps around the poster. The thread topic winks out of existence and reappears in 1d10 posts. Out of Context Theatre, this week starring xthetenth -'You know me. You know that if there was a way to become Monitor Shiva, I would.'
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