Ask Corellia The More You Speak, the Less I Believe

Arctus Friers

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Malastare was a kriffing nightmare.

Arctus expected nothing but questionable peace and quiet when he arrived in that starsforsaken planet. Meeting new compatriots – namely Mallister Keynion and Ulysses Reed – had been quite a blast, no matter how brief their conversation have been, the amiable air he had given the two greatly marred by the Black Parade Squad's presence in the doom and gloom Malastare alrready possessed. He could still remember how those two goons watched the three smugglers like a pair of leering Nexu, their creepy staring ended by the bolts from one of his blaster pistols. But the henchmen were nothing compared to the man and the small woman, the latter Arctus believed to be the 'Mother' the two thugs referred to in their slip up. There was something about those individuals that made his intuition scream on high alert, warning him of danger, danger, you wouldn't want to be crossing paths with Gold Eyes One and Two over there–

The smuggler could still feel their red-gold gazes sticking to his very being like a disgusting oil slick, his throat constricting at the string of what if's that bothered him ever since he left the planet. He had followed the Dark Side of the Force his intuition's guidance to go after them, the insidious and perverted voice of his savior promising him freedom in exchange of confronting the strangers. But fear came stronger than the seduction of being liberated from whatever the hell he needed freeing from, and the sight of dead bodies were more than enough to send Arctus running back where he came from.

Suffice to say, the experience not only left a strong bitter taste on Arctus' tongue but he had also permanently removed Malastare from the list of his (questionably) favorite go-to places to relax on.

The Cyar'ika landed smoothly on one of the many spaceports offered by his homeworld to travellers from near and far. Armed with a pair of DL-18 Blaster Pistols hanging on either side of his hips and a trusty vibroblade tucked into his right boot, Arctus wearily made his way out of the port and into the nearest bar he could find. The urge to find a spice dealer came at him something fierce, but the smuggler managed to be steadfast to his vow to never delve back into substance abuse. What would his Mando savior say?

He hadn't seen her since that fateful meeting on Tatooine, but he won't break his quiet promise to her. Not if he could help it, that is.

And perhaps he ought to give his folks a visit. It had been quite a while since he last saw his Ma and little brothers. He missed them, terribly, but it wouldn't do him well to show up on their doorstep looking as if Death had spooked him just for the shits and giggles.

The Snoozing Krayt was, surprisingly, not packed with people and beings of all shapes and sizes. The last time he checked, it was a pretty popular place for a hole in a wall dive bar. But Arctus wouldn't complain – as shaken as he was still from his trip to Malastare, he appreciated the sudden quiet the dive offered.

Arctus made a beeline for the bar, exchanging nods and half-hearted greetings and grins to any familiar faces. The bartender, a female Togruta, shot the smuggler a surprised look as the latter slid onto one of the stools lining the bar.

"Well, well, if it isn't my favorite human," she greeted him peppily, a wide smile adorning her pretty face. "What can I get you, Arc? Fancy something new? I have Iridonian whiskey back in stock."

Returning her smile with a weary one, Arctus managed to mutter a quiet, "Iridonian whiskey it is, then. Good to see you're doing great, Saahnaa."

Saahnaa blinked, perplexed at his lack of cheer. The smuggler could understand – he would always flirt with her in an attempt to get under her short skirt, regardless of her always turning him down with unnerving politeness.

"Not very chipper tonight, are we?" she observed as she poured him his drink. "Giving up on your quest to get me to your ship's bed?"

Arctus supplied her with a tiny grin before shrugging. "Gonna pass on that tonight, sweetheart. Just have a lot to think about."

Used to handling problematic idiots coming to her bar to drink their troubles away, Saahnaa offered the smuggler a shrug before giving his cheek a light pat. "I'll leave you to your thinking, then. And here's the bottle. I have a feeling you have a lot on your plate right now."

With that, Arctus was left nursing his glass of whiskey, his mind delving back to Malastare. He was grateful for Saahnaa's attention turning elsewhere because she was right.

He did have a lot on his plate right now.

In all his years of relying on his intuition to save his arse from dangerous situations, never had he felt it as strongly as he did back in Malastare. It felt as if someone was speaking to him in words he couldn't understand – like a drowning man who struggled to hear his savior's garbled words through the water surrounding him. His intuition had warned him of danger, but it also gave him subtle nudges to approach, to find out what two dodgy and dark individuals were up to. Out of the planet and away from danger, Arctus had wracked his brain to remember the words being spoken to him but could not understand. He reached into his mind and heard nothing but the death screams of the slaughtered people he saw in Malastare. How could he hear something he had not heard, something he wasn't even imagining? Was he that messed up in the head to be hearing screams and words that weren't his own, weren't the product of his imagination?

Arctus rubbed his face with one hand, frowning as he moved to tip the glass of whiskey to his lips.

The Force surged within him, a turmoil of emotions and the desire to just comprehend what it was. He was, once again, projecting his feelings of confusion and latent sensitivity to the Force.

The smuggler was, to put things simply, out of his depth.

@Shax
 
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Alastair Coven

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'What will be your life's contribution?' 'Rip it up!' 'Why so lazy?'

Coven was not a stranger to death. It was simply a personal choice not to take part in it any more than he had too. The voices screamed louder than ever during the invasion of Malastare, badgering him to join in with his fellow Sith in the slaughter that ensued. To kill and revel in it.

The Dark side of the force has always been about dominance. The Rule of the strong. You should never be content, never happy with your own achievements. You must conquer others, bend them to your will and once they have outlived their usefulness, kill them to feed your own power. It was all very wasteful.

In his own humble mind, Coven was above such things. He was happy, or perhaps simply content, with dominance over the Force alone. Perhaps it was owing to some secret contrarian nature in him, but if there was anything about life he hated more, it was the Force itself. It had brought him nothing but pain and misery since he had been born, but it was a useful tool nonetheless. He could be satisfied with that, a nice little illogical emotional loophole into gaining power the Sith way.

It was fun to see fledgling force sensitives. Bungling about thinking they knew what they needed to know about the universe, wounded, as if their own trauma was unique to the galaxy. This particular fledgling was positively radiating a big neon 'look at me!' sign, as if the Force itself was tired of not being noticed. Coven had followed this 'smuggler!' 'weakling!' 'thief!' 'unworthy!' from Malastare. Always unseen, always invisible to notice. Observing like a zookeeper, clinical and dethatched. There was always something new to learn about fledglings.

It was clear that the darkside wanted to claim him. If only to have another body to possess in its unknowable need to influence the galaxy. The voices wanted him to kill the fledgling, kill the rival. What a waste that would be.

Coven was already seated when the fledgling entered, lifting a drink from the bar and taking a sip. He hadn't paid, he hadn't been noticed to begin with. It wasn't his fault that they left around free alcohol behind a glorified bench. The Force worked in mysterious ways he had been told, not that he had ever bothered to listen. The Force could in some cases grant true invisibility, if you were learned in its mysteries. Coven wasn't that far along in his studies, but he did know how to go unnoticed with the Force.

The Fledgling sat down next to him, as the voices screamed he would, letting Coven observe his interaction with the pretty alien bartender. He was disturbed, it was clear to see on his face. He would need to learn to hide his feelings. Or truly let them out.

"Good day Arctus." His name was a simple matter to pick out in the force, because it was never bothered to be hidden. Coven's own presence had little in common with his compatriots. While theirs were often loud and evil, his own was subdued or otherwise nonexistent. It was always fun to watch people jump when they finally notice you right next to them. "Something tells me that you have seen some things, or perhaps felt some things you'd rather not have." Coven's voice was a rich baritone, cultured, but not to the degree of being snooty.

Nothing about Coven was hidden. Not truly or if you knew how to look anyway. His lightsaber hung limply at his hip, clearly displaying his allegiance to one of the two major force factions.

@Forsythe Crowholde
 

Arctus Friers

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Perhaps he was in too deep in his own troubles that Arctus failed to notice the person sitting beside him. The person he sat beside with, rather. The man had fully escaped his notice, his intuition's, and the smuggler could only jolt in surprise on his seat and let his jaw drop at the very mention of his own name slipping so casually past the stranger's lips.

The glass nearly slipped from his grasp, saved only by his own grasping, desperate fingers. Arctus backtracked on Saahnaa's greeting – no, she didn't say his name, just the silly nickname she had for him. That this strange individual spoke it as if he had known the name for a terribly long time sent chills down Arctus' spine. That the stranger made his presence known in such a way caught the smuggler off guard. Saahnaa acted as if the stranger wasn't even there, and it confused him greatly. The Togruta was one for having words with new customers who did not pay first before getting a drink, first to ascertain if they were of age already and second to make sure that they won't drink and dash on her.

Hazel grey eyes found Saahnaa speaking to another patron. She paid the man seated beside Arctus no heed, as if the latter wasn't there. Existing.

The stranger's next words saw Arctus grip his glass tighter and his jaw clenched. Eyes narrowed, he looked away and poured himself another round of whiskey.

"Something tells you, huh?" he snarked at the curious fellow, watching the man from his peripheral vision. "Well, mister, kindly tell whatever that thing is to sod off."

The ForceHis intuition hummed with disapproval at his irreverence. Something about the man felt... no, not off. Now that the smuggler was made aware of the odd gentleman's presence, it remained still difficult to ascertain if the latter brought danger or nothing at all.

The weird guy's presence was, to simply put, muted . Like he was making himself seem invisible on purpose – the exact opposite of Arctus who foolishly announced himself like some kind of a bastard royalty.

The alcohol left a satisfying burn in his throat as he downed another drink, the glass letting out a dull thunk as he set it down the counter.

"And what, pray tell, gave my troubles away," Arctus then asked, "that I've...felt something I shouldn't have? Aside from my face, that is. I'm well aware I look like shit right now. Enlighten this poor kriffer, why don't you, Mister...?"

He left the silent request for the man's name, trailing off as he poured himself another shot of liquor.

@Shax
 
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Alastair Coven

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Coven gave a wide shark like smile. It was always a pleasure watching people jump with fright. The chorus tittered with satisfaction in the back of his mind, constantly pushing him to do more and more to unsettle the fledgling. Coven wasn't above scaring people, and truthfully he enjoyed the experience. It was a quick feeling of power, of knowing that you could have done almost anything to your victim without them noticing. A guilty pleasure.

Coven listened politely as the older fledgling bit out his response. "You may call me, Coven." He said, as if bestowing some great honor on the older man. Coven tapped his thumb against the bar, though he never broke his amused stare at Arctus. *Tap* *Tap* *Tap* Perhaps it would scare the fledgling away. He would be better off if he ran, Coven thought. The Force that clung to him was cloying and greedy, as if was a starving man denied the most basic of sustenance.

"Arctus Friers..." Coven spoke again, plucking the name that danced around the smugglers head, just out of sight. "Yes that's your name. You have had a... troubled childhood." This Coven didn't actually know, but it was both an easy guess to make and a fun gamble. Not very many people were so actively sought out by the darkside because they were well adjusted.

He tapped his thumb against the bar again, and sipped his drink. *TapTapTap* "The Force sticks to you heavily Arctus." Coven continued, while using the fledglings name as if they were old friends. 'Can you see the parts that I'm playing?' a voice echoed around Coven's mind, sounding suspiciously like his own.

"The Force echoes like a beacon around you, my friend, drawing forces such as I towards you. I'm not in the business of free advice, so we will just have to agree to say you owe me a favor when I tell you, that you need to get a handle on it. There are things far more dangerous than myself who would love to find one such as you." Coven did love being mysterious, it helped when he wanted to manipulate someone. For their benefit of course, but Coven always knows best. *Tap* *Tap* *Tap* went his thumb once more.

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Arctus Friers

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Arctus smirked at the man who called himself Coven's introduction, but the amusement on his lips did not quite reach his eyes. He felt as if the guy was being patronizing rather than being a decent person for answering an unasked question. It irked him, and his intuition stoked the flames as it whispered at him to deck the old dude. Muttered with toxic irritation that this Coven deserved it.

The smuggler blinked. Where had that thought come from?

It was difficult to stop himself from sending his glass flying at the other man's face at the very mention of his full name. More so when Coven made a comment about his childhood. Arctus turned to face him, smirk morphing into the familiar combination of a glare and clenched jaw as he remembered flashes of his boyhood days. He shoved down the memories and the phantom pains he still felt where his father struck him harshly, the Force a malevolent maelstrom around him as he remembered, only simmering down to a dull ache at the image of his mother's smiles, his little brothers' adoration, and the Mando woman who deemed him worthy to live another day when he lay dying on the sands of Tatooine.

He finally managed to shrug off Coven's words, the glare receding into world-weary acceptance. Arctus' hand found his glass, fingers dancing lazily on the rim. He looked away from the man's unnerving stare, feeling cautious as to what his game might be.

"I'm not the only poor sap who's had it rough," he muttered defensively, waving a hand towards Coven. "For all we know you could've had a shitty childhood as well."

A sullen guess, but he supposed that birds of the same feather did flock together.

Arctus pulled the glass and moved to take another mouthful of whiskey when Coven said it. That one word he first heard as a boy, in gossips made by old ladies who had nothing better to do but make false(?) rumors about his mother. He almost spat out his whiskey but kept the liquid in his mouth, choking on it instead as he forced the drink down his throat.

Force.

The Force.

Air left his lungs in a heartbeat, in a shuddering exhale as "He's not his father's son", "Oh, really?" "Some traveling robed man... a Jedi? Who knows!" "No wonder her husband hated the kid", "Poor Arctus – he's too young to understand" floated in his mind like a thick layer of smog. Words exchanged by gossip mongers who did nothing but to spread lies to justify his bastard father's abuse of a small, innocent boy who wanted nothing but love from him in return–

He barely heard Coven as he continued to speak, something about a beacon and forces such as himself (the kriff did that mean) being drawn to Arctus. The ForceHis intuition no kriffing way he was calling it the karking Force – screamed at him to just get up and leave, to walk away from this mysterious creep who knew his name–

"The kriff do you mean, 'The Force echoes like a beacon around you'?" he asked a little too brusquely for his liking, eyes meeting Coven's as he leaned towards the older guy.

Younger, the Force his intuition corrected him – kindly, this time, in the voice of the savior he desperately wished to see again. Arctus shook his head, trying but failing not to acknowledge what he just heard despite the message being delivered by that gentle voice touched by a helmet's voice modulator.

"You talk like I'm either one of those space monks or space evil wizards. Don't make fun of me, kid. Whatever the hell happened to that 'respect your elders' shit?" He looked away for a bit to refill his glass, grumbling under his breath at the insinuation. Him, a Force-sensitive whatever? Bullshit. One brow cocked upwards, his gaze found Coven's once more before gesturing at the latter with the drink in his hand. "Methinks you've had too much to drink, Mister Coven. And was that last part a threat? About things more dangerous than yourself who'd love to find a smuggler as myself?"

He scoffed, unknowingly misunderstanding the other man's words.

"Don't kid me, dude."

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Alastair Coven

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He was fun to watch, this smuggler. The gamut of emotions he could run through while still maintaining the overarching theme of being angry and annoyed was almost inspiring. He would have to learn how to suppress that, or utilize it depending on what he chose to do after this little encounter.

Coven merely shook his head at Arctus' attempt to bite back. His childhood was rather good all things considered, Coven only started his descent later in life. Though, not so late as this one, he thought. He could almost hear the maelstrom of thought that swirled in Arctus' mind as Coven's own words truly sunk in. There would be nothing almost about it should he choose to be a little more forceful with his mental voyeurisms.

"You are nothing like either of those orders, My Friend," Whenever Coven said the words 'my friend' he pushed lightly on the force, trying to make Arctus see him as just that, a friend. Someone to be trusted. It was insidious and far from obvious; it was a technique that helped Coven survive his entrance into the Sith. "Not yet. Truly, I mean you no harm. I simply give you a warning that you are no longer beyond notice, a warning that might save your life. No, I want you to understand that I am not your enemy in this moment, and I mean no disrespect to you My Friend." Another suggestion, another lie.

"You thrum with the cloying scent of the Darkside Arctus." Coven continued suggestively, merely a strategy to keep the older man off balance. "You will either need to learn to handle it, hide it, or you will find yourself more and more danger. More tragedy. It can be a powerful tool however, if you know what to do with it. My Friend." This was an opportunity for Coven to acquire a pawn, but he wasn't going to push his luck if the older man could shake him off. He was still conflicted on whether or not he wanted to introduce Arctus to the Sith way's, perhaps he should just direct him to the Jedi. Make him a potential ally within that order.

@Forsythe Crowholde
 

Arctus Friers

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Friend.

Arctus never had any real friends, only acquaintances and business partners. Maybe except for Mal and Ulysses, fellow smugglers he met on Malastare – considering the surprising protectiveness he felt for the two the moment the Force his intuition told him that the Black Parade Squad brought nothing but danger and that the he wouldn't leave the pair behind. Maybe he could call them friends, much like Coven right here. This strange man who looked older for his age, who had done nothing but to be informative and even trustworthy(?), telling Arctus things he did not know and never gave much thought about until now.

He was Force-sensitive. The intuition he relied on for years was not what it seemed to be, but the actual karking Force. Used by the Jedi. Used by the Sith. For whatever gain on both parties, the mysterious thing giving them powers for good or for evil.

And Arctus had that?

He had zero clue how one became a Force-sensitive. All he had was that the gossips about his mother that might really be true, after all those years of pushing them to the side because he believed them to be false. How did one become Force-sensitive anyway? Was it something inherited, passed on from parent to child?

Was his real dad the wandering space monk the gossip mongers were talking about?

Godsdamn it.

The Force around him was a beacon, that much Coven had told him. And as the younger male spoke about the smuggler being practically noticeable to other Force-users, that the Darkside had him in its grip, made Arctus groan pathetically. Drinking glass finding itself back on the counter, both hands flying to rub over his face repeatedly as if to wash away the truth he was being bombarded with.

"Kriff... karking– bloody fecking hell, that's a lie, it has to be," he muttered repeatedly, voice muffled against his palms. Still in denial, but with his resolve growing ever weaker with each word that slipped past Coven's lips. "No, no, no... you're lying..."

My friend.

Friends weren't meant to lie to you, right? It was getting harder to resist to not trust the guy. Did nothing but to be honest, really.

Yes, whispered the Dark sweetly, sibilant and corrupt as it wrapped Arctus in its heavy embrace.

Don't, warned the Light gently, patient and kind, warming him from the inside to keep the Darkness' chilling touch at bay.

Arctus had to be the definition of confused at this very moment. People and beings ought to just replace the word with his name and the galaxy would be set. "Hey, pal, I'm Arctus. Please explain this to me slowly and more carefully why don't you?"

The hat dropped, and Arctus shifted from confused to amused, bursting into a brief giggling fit – but only for a moment, as the gravity of the situation brutally brought him back planetside. The giggle turned into a choked sob, and instead of pouring the liquor on the glass Arctus drank straight from the bottle instead.

"Tell me then, friend," he would address Coven seconds later once the one, two, then three sobs abated and came to a full stop. The bottle of Iridonian whiskey thunked against the counter as Arctus swiveled on the stool to fully face his companion. "Since you know so much about this karking Force and telling me that I have that thing... which of the two are you? Jedi? Sith? Or just some random guy who devotes his time to study about the Force?"

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Alastair Coven

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Coven waited patiently, smiling politely as Arctus processed his new information. He glanced around, making sure no one else was listening in. He was fallible after all, and despite his prodigious skill in remaining hidden or unnoticed, there was always a chance he would be spotted by some unlucky bystander. It might not have been important for this particular conversation whether he was seen or not, but it was always important to maintain constant vigilance.

Honestly, Coven thought Arctus was overreacting. This was good news! Regardless of his choices after today, he had options. He had power only a select few could ever comprehend, he was automatically set above the rest of the plebeians in this galaxy.

"I'm a Sith myself of course! Its a tough job but I do what I can, and I do very well if I might say so." Coven said with an ear to ear smile. "I said I mean you no harm, and I keep my word. I've come in good faith, to give you your options." He continued, lilting his tone at the end to make it sound almost like a threat. His next words hopefully banished those thoughts however. "You could come with me and I could teach you what you needed to know to survive in your new world. Or perhaps you might even choose to join the Sith yourself." Coven mildly hoped for that outcome, but truthfully he wasn't doing this for any personal gain. Arctus was a curious speck on his radar, but he wasn't going to force him into anything.

"If you truly wished, I might be able to get you into contact with a Jedi." He lied. He could perhaps achieve such a thing, but it wasn't exactly uncommon knowledge that the Sith and Jedi weren't the best of friends. "It really depends on what you want out of life I suppose. The way of the Sith is the path of power, of success." Coven tried to make this seem like the correct path, but there was something in his eyes that betrayed exactly the price of that power and success.

"The Way of the Jedi is the path of peace, of contentment, or so I'm told." He continued, another unconscious expression displaying a mild yearning for just that. The ghosts thundered mightily at him, proclaiming him a weakling and a liar. "Or you could go on as you are, bumbling around a galaxy far stranger than you could ever know." Playing the mysterious sage was always fun.

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Arctus Friers

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Arctus wasn't usually the best of listeners, his mind always wandering from prospective job offers, his mom and his younger brothers, what he would say to his Mando savior should they cross paths again, and listening to what his intuition – aka the Force – was telling him. But Coven and his words have demanded the smuggler's full attention, and he was willing to hear everything despite the doubts and denial that still partially clouded his judgement.

He swallowed the sudden lump in his throat when the young man revealed his identity. A Darksider – a Sith? Under any circumstances, his intuition (the Force, you buffoon!) would have warned him already of the potential danger he had just walked into. Coven's presence remained muted, imperceptible, and it seemed to Arctus that the former would only willingly let himself known should the fancy hit him. To Arctus, those who could practically blend in with their surroundings without catching attention were dangerous and could easily strike at any given opportunity.

Coven was a Sith, but why wasn't he striking? Why was he being helpful, casually revealing Arctus' Force-sensitivity over a few drinks?

He would've fully trusted the guy if he'd been the same starstruck kid who knew nothing but to admire individuals who radiated power and coolness. But the Galaxy was cruel, and Arctus was not the same kid anymore, learning not to put his trust so readily to people and beings who offered questionable helping hands.

Actus frowned at the offer of guidance and the option of joining Coven's order. He had heard of Ryloth, the attack on the Ranger HQ on Coruscant, and the subsequent crises the Sith had caused around the Galaxy. Was that something he wanted? To lose himself to the Dark Side and wreak havoc across the galaxy like Coven's brethren?

The thought of his family here on Corellia made his chest hurt. No, he couldn't do that to them, wouldn't let them find out that he'd become an agent of chaos and death who felled anyone who dared cross his path. Arctus might be a flawed individual who dabbled in unsavory jobs and questionable deeds, but his love for his family kept him grounded – kept him from hurtling head first into a hateful existence.

"No, I–" he muttered, gaze flickering to his hands (he hadn't realized that they were trembling). Arctus bit his tongue, letting Coven continue.

It was Arctus' turn to stare.

There was an old saying that the eyes were the windows to a person's soul. And Arctus did not like what he was seeing as his hazel grey eyes bore into Coven's, for once serious and scrutinizing. He didn't need to rely on the Force's warning to see that the other man's words were betrayed by the flicker of emotions that flashed, however briefly, in his eyes.

A Sith making contact with a Jedi just so Arctus could learn from the latter? He wasn't stupid, he knew the ongoing hostilities between the two opposing Orders. The look he sent Coven was unimpressed, enforced by a shake of his head. The young man spoke of power and success, things the path of becoming a Sith could offer him – and yet he literally looked older than Arctus himself. Whatever the price for said power and success have taken a toll on Coven, and the smuggler wouldn't even begin to think of the state of the younger male's mental health.

Arctus turned away at the momentary flash of mild yearning on Coven's eyes when the latter described the Jedi's ways. It wasn't out of pity, or what resembled the emotion. His love for his family had easily convinced him not to accept the guidance of the Sith beside him nor the chance to join their Order. His overall goals, on the other hand, did not coincide with the Jedi. Arctus was a broken man – he could never be content, could never find peace, what with his goals and desires still so out of reach.

But Coven was right. With the knowledge that he was a Force-user, Arctus knew that his life would never be the same. He knew, with the sudden revelation brought to him, that he would stand out in a crowd – a stranger who had no idea how to conceal himself from others of his own kind: beings who could wield the Force for whatever purpose or gain they sought.

"I'm within the Dark Side's clutches, aren't I?" he mumbled, propping his elbows on the counter and resting his head on his waiting hands. "Well, Mister Coven, I don't want it. You're a Sith, said so yourself. I don't– I can't afford to go down the same path as yours. With all due respect, my friend, I will have to reject your offer."

Maker, he hoped it won't earn him a red lightsaber to the chest. Or for his head to roll on the Snoozing Krayt's floor. Out of everyone gathered in the bar, it was Saahnaa who didn't deserve to witness such a gruesome death.

Arctus would pull himself away from the counter, getting off the stool and facing Coven. He took one last mouthful of whiskey, grabbed some credits from his pocket, and placed the payment – with change to spare – on the counter. The smuggler went against clapping an amiable hand on the Sith's shoulder in fear of having his limb cut off or something.

He would find a way to learn how to control his powers, how to (hopefully) master the Force, but not from the Sith. He'd heard stories and rumors about the Darksiders – they were powerful, yes, but ultimately going down the dark path that ended only in death. Destruction. With no hope for peace or reprieve.

Arctus didn't want that. He couldn't drag with him the people he loved down that path. If he was entrenched in Darkness, then it was only fair for him to seek someone who was touched so strongly by the Light.

"I appreciate you going out of your way to try to contact a Jedi, but I have a feeling that it would end only in disaster – your Orders often tear at each other's throats whenever you cross paths. Or so I've heard. And as much as you've enlightened me in this little, unnerving encounter, I wouldn't wish to see you and a Jedi killing each other," Arctus would tell Coven in farewell. "I think I can find a Jedi on my own, thanks. Good night, mate."

With a final weary nod, Arctus would peel himself away from the counter and leave the bar. Perhaps it was about time he visited his family he hadn't seen in quite a while.

@Shax
[Exit thread; end thread]
Thank you very much for having Coven tell Arctus that he's Force-sensitive! :)
Please feel free to make a reaction post. I will obviously read it! :D
 

Alastair Coven

Character
Sith Order
Rank
Champion

Character Profile
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OOC
Shax
Joined
Dec 29, 2020
Messages
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Coven waited patiently, somewhat conflicted. On the one hand, the moment Arctus started talking Coven knew he wasn't going to accept his offer and that made him feel rather... sad. On the other, he wouldn't wish the attentions of the Sith on anyone, and the simple fact that Arctus was willing to deny the best opportunity for power he could get, gave Coven a rather good picture of the older mans moral caliber.

He had wished for an apprentice, or perhaps just a confidant. Coven would without a doubt sacrifice Arctus to save his own skin if he had too, but there was no one else at the moment that Coven really considered a friend. Hostile acquaintance perhaps, but Arctus could have been something akin to friendship, but it wasn't to be.

Coven let out two breathes that sounded vaguely like a laugh, his eyes seeming older as he watched Arctus get up to leave. "You are going to be just fine Arctus." Coven muttered almost silently, though still audible. 'Weakling! He's a weakling just like I said!' 'What a waste.' 'You give him an offer of such magnitude and he has the audacity to REFUSE?! Kill him Alastair, make it bloody.'

Coven ignored the ghosts, a feat that was getting increasingly difficult. "You made the right choice." Coven said to himself, so quiet it might as well have not been said at all, wanting to shout it at the man. Instead, he just finished his drink, stood up and became just another face in the crowd.

OOC: Thanks for the thread!
 
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