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[Veles]

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Di'an, Corporate Sector
0516 local time

"BREAKING! SHARES IN MORCORP PLUMMET AFTER ATTEMPTED ASSASSINATION!"

"...GALAX index. One. Sextillion. Seventy. Four. Galactic. Credits. MORCORP. On--"

Though speeders were banned in the upper level of Di'an in the Corporate Sectors, the pedestrians were noisier than any speeder horn possible. The denizens and citizens of the Corporate Sector, the massive corporations of stock brokers and CEOs of intergalactic business, were not to be tamed in their unrelenting shouting of information. Stock numbers, from share prices to percent changes, and financial and business news were yelled out by bots, people, and speakers mounted on building. The buildings themselves were a sea of neon numbers, shiny digits that blinded one if they stared for too long.

Cinere wasn't concentrated on any of that--or at least he told himself he wasn't. That was a very interesting topic for him, because truth be told, who didn't like money? Even he had a few investments going, shares in companies that had skyrocketed while he was on Dathomir. But he was not here for that today.

He would be meeting a Sith Lord for what he presumed would likely be a business meeting, considering the setting. He had no idea what he was in for, but that was fine. He just needed to get back into things, to get readjusted to the Galactic living. He wasn't a hermit anymore. Though he looked like one.

Long, wispy white hair was covered by the hood of a red cloak, draped over his shoulders and over a white robe. He wore black boots on his feet with a large number of buckles. He looked just edgy enough to seem unapproachable and make people understand he was a Sith, but not so dark that people were genuinely scared. Though a decent number turned to stare at him as he passed, finding their eyes bulging from the atmospheric pressure, or in tears due to a sudden pang of a heart-shattering, mind-breaking sadness. People interpreted the dark side differently when they weren't exposed to the Force. He doubted many in the Corporate Sector were.

His face showed even clearer signs of corruption, hence the mask. The capillaries near his eyes were bruised due to extensive use of the Shadow, and his skin was relatively pale. His eyes, once black, were now nearly orange, black veins tearing across his scleras. Though he was still handsome.

He was meeting with the person of interest at a nearby cafe, overlooking a plaza with a few trees as an attempt at nature, bathed in the brilliant glow of dozens of screens above, advertising goods and announcing stock prices. At least the drone of the street was barely a buzz here.

He took a seat at a table for two--the nicest in the house and on a corner--and ordered a black coffee, then waited.

@Mr. Teatime

 

[Darth Stolas]

As if in silent meta-answer to the other Sith's question, Morgan had just been thinking about the flow of money throughout the corporate sector. Corporations across the galaxy had offices, factories, and even home offices in the dense sector of aggressively industrialized planets. Certainly the whole concept went against Firrerreon sensibilities to some degree. But then again, Morgan was a selfish man.

Dressed in relatively casual clothes, gold-rimmed sunglasses, and black dress boots he walked through crowds of people in all manner of other dress. Few on this planet cared who one was or where they were from. An array of different cultural and local attire formed a chaotic picture amongst the neon lights and cacophonous announcements from every corner of main streets and building fronts.

Even the obvious red-robed figured wasn't the weirdest weirdo around. Besides, even most Sith knew better than to poke the corporations carelessly, every bit as ruthless and cutthroat as Sith themselves. Morgan walked right into the cafe, a leather satchel of relevant items and information in his right hand. Aside appearance his approach wasn't obvious until he got close to the other Sith.

The swirling hurricane that was Stolas' refined presence in the Force blew briefly over the other man, a pair of flaming eyes looking out from between black and thunderous storm clouds. Then it was suppressed all over again as the Firrerreo sat down in the other free seat. He ordered strong black tea.

"You look like a hermit," he commented conversationally, placing his bag on the floor and removing his sunglasses. Sharp golden eyes glanced at Cinere's mask, then moved to a datapad he pulled from the bag. "What's your specialty?"

@vamp

 

[Veles]

Through the Force, Cinere could feel the disturbance in the Force caused by the Councilor's presence. The man arrived with the raw power of a raging hurricane and then suppressed it easily. He didn't have to look around to guess who he was supposed to be meeting.

Darth Stolas arrived looking like either a trust fund kid or an extravagant model and sat at the table. He removed his glasses and bag and CInere got a look at his corrupted eyes. He suddenly felt a lot less uncomfortable with his changes. He removed his helmet, revealing his face, then took down his hood.

"You don't even know the half of it," he chuckled. "Uhh, sorcery, I guess. I kind of know different things." He needed a specialty? Why had no one told him this? Maybe the hermit living had really affected him that hard.

The coffee and tea arrived at the same time. Cinere dropped some sugar in the coffee and took a sip. Was he just going to get a mission or something completely unrelated to this place?

 

[Darth Stolas]

Golden eyes, more or less their natural hue, glanced back up as Cinere removed his mask. They blinked, scanning over the man's facial features and the colours across his eyes, then once more back to the datapad. A finger swiped over the screen while Cinere spoke, lips curling slightly downward toward a frown unrelated to the human's relatively vague answer.

"Define 'sorcery'," he began after the drinks arrived, not adding anything to his tea before sipping the dark and steaming liquid. "You throwing fireballs, warping minds, summoning the dead?" Stolas' tone was clipped and terse, quite like he was in a grumpy mood. Which he was, in fact. Keeping busy meant less sleep or recreation time than he'd prefer.

Morgan put down the pad- he'd obviously been playing a back and forth word game with someone a moment prior- and finally gave Cinere a look that lasted longer than a couple seconds. "Only subtle works in the corporate sector."

@vamp

 

[Veles]

The Councilor shot back with what was probably supposed to be a clever quip, but Cinere didn't miss a beat.

"Yes. I can also deceive the mind and the sense, which I suppose is a good skill for a place that values subtlety." There was not an aura of lack of subordination in his tone--it was more of a playful quip back. He didn't care if Stolas picked up on it. He'd found that most of the high command seemed to lack social skills or a sense of humor--or both.

He took a sip of coffee and tapped his lips. "So what is it you need me to do? I also specialize in infiltration, espionage, and massages."

@Mr. Teatime