Barely a week had passed since the naval battle over Thule. Mandalorian invaders had arrived to bombard the fortress that Vahliri had claimed as her own fiefdom, only to be sent with their tails between their legs within hours. The traitor responsible for the invasion had been imprisoned and tortured alongside his Vod, transported to Mustafar to await final judgment before the Dark Lord.
It was more than the Dark Lord could’ve hoped for - and she wasn’t blind to the fact that their victory was made possible by the timely assistance of Apex. The mercenary company had performed beyond expectation, and would be paid handsomely for the contributions of Nakoa and Aden. Sith coffers were fuller than ever, and it paid to support the Order that Tempest had slowly rebuilt over the years.
But it was not for the purposes of payment that Vahliri asked to meet with Arla.
It felt like an eternity since the two of them parted ways on Dathomir. They had always been on good terms, and even if Arla had abandoned the Sith Order, the half-Annfyn was confident that their friendship was something that yet remained intact.
For once, Vahliri had abandoned the armor and mask that had beyond infamous across the Galaxy - instead opting for civilian attire that fitted her own style. Her dark hair was braided and styled intricately, flowing down nearly to her waist. It was one of the few times that the half-Annfyn opted to show her face to the Galaxy, and it was only the remote nature of the Felucian village that provided her the confidence to do so.
It was a planet that had once nearly been Arla’s - where the two had fought together, banishing the Entity that haunted them throughout the years. The village was made up mostly of natives, save for the two traders that strolled into town to purchase herbs and produce. The cantina where Tempest waited for Arla was filled with the latter sort of folk, largely ignored by Imperial patrols or customs.
And so she waited - casually crossing one leg over the other. Two glasses had been brought to the table, but the bottle of wine was one brought by Vahliri herself. A favorite that Arla would recognize, to be shared between old friends.
It was more than the Dark Lord could’ve hoped for - and she wasn’t blind to the fact that their victory was made possible by the timely assistance of Apex. The mercenary company had performed beyond expectation, and would be paid handsomely for the contributions of Nakoa and Aden. Sith coffers were fuller than ever, and it paid to support the Order that Tempest had slowly rebuilt over the years.
But it was not for the purposes of payment that Vahliri asked to meet with Arla.
It felt like an eternity since the two of them parted ways on Dathomir. They had always been on good terms, and even if Arla had abandoned the Sith Order, the half-Annfyn was confident that their friendship was something that yet remained intact.
For once, Vahliri had abandoned the armor and mask that had beyond infamous across the Galaxy - instead opting for civilian attire that fitted her own style. Her dark hair was braided and styled intricately, flowing down nearly to her waist. It was one of the few times that the half-Annfyn opted to show her face to the Galaxy, and it was only the remote nature of the Felucian village that provided her the confidence to do so.
It was a planet that had once nearly been Arla’s - where the two had fought together, banishing the Entity that haunted them throughout the years. The village was made up mostly of natives, save for the two traders that strolled into town to purchase herbs and produce. The cantina where Tempest waited for Arla was filled with the latter sort of folk, largely ignored by Imperial patrols or customs.
And so she waited - casually crossing one leg over the other. Two glasses had been brought to the table, but the bottle of wine was one brought by Vahliri herself. A favorite that Arla would recognize, to be shared between old friends.
@Phoenix