Ask Under Umbaran Skies

[Darth Arcanos]

Azar finally had the strength to sit up, his entire body soaked and his hair matted to his face. He was starting to get cold, hugging himself. His robes felt heavy and he was still drained from the injuries, but the nexus was working wonders to heal him. He considered Vossari’s words, smirking at the Wrean, “Isn’t that why you brought me?” Azar asked flatly, “Part of being Sith is being resourceful enough to bring the right assets for a job.”
Vossari had calculated the need for a Sith specialized in sorcery to pursue the Sorcerers of Tund. It was sound logic from what Azar could see. In the end, they had to rely on Azar’s sorcery for a scenario no one else could have overcome, “I’d say your resourcefulness makes you a good Sith,” He said, “And a survivor.”

He still felt weak, and his gaze flicked over to the artifact Vossari possessed, “That is a very powerful weapon, crafted from ancient sorcery,” Azar explained, “It has the cost of blood, but excess use will also corrupt your mind or disfigure you,” He didn’t understand the full extent of that artpad, only that it was cursed.

“Come on, let’s search the ruins… I’m confident we will find something on the sorcerers,” Azar said as he shakily got to his feet. He could barely stand, and he was freezing.

@Fine Dining Set

 

[Vossari Khaldun]

Azar was right. Vossari was the best. They needed to stop questioning that and start embracing their own greatness. Azar certainly did, and his confidence was absolutely intoxicating. Even when he was afraid, Azar had the air of command befitting his rank. A survivor. If recent events were to be trusted, surviving in the Sith was victory. The Order had a way of thinning itself out.

"And I'd say your sorcery saved our asses." He ran a finger playfully across Azar's hand, before giving it a firm grasp. "You're amazing. You know that?" Vossari said simply. He felt a high in this situation, this moment, with the Sith. Azar's power had always been attractive to Vossari - from the very first demonstration. But this attack had shown the extent of his character, the lengths he was willing to go to achieve his vision. That was a Sith worth following. But, even more than that, he was a man that Vossari could not stop thinking about.

He had tried to push it away, tried to acknowledge Azar's gentle and firm advice to leave their feelings at the door. Voss was practically all feelings, though. No matter how much he tried to annoy Azar or rationalize their relationship merely as a Sith and his agent, he felt each step draw his heart closer. It was a vulnerability he feared so much, he could not admit it to himself.

The leather-bound tome that sat in his hand weighed heavily as Azar described it. Finally - a vessel for his budding power. It was immensely useful in cutting through the magickal illusions of the ancient Sorcerer. But immense power came at an immense price. And even Vossari, reckless as he was, knew that one had to master their desires rather than become their slave.

And yet, there was a desire lingering in front of him that he felt powerless before. A red-skinned, golden-eyed, would-be god. Vossari was not the worshipping type. But, like the siren's call, he felt lured into safety with Azar's piercing gaze. It was there, he felt warm.

Vossari stabilized Azar as he rose to his feet. As he did, he felt goosebumps rippling across Azar's skin, and the shuddering breaths of a Sith freezing. Vossari felt cold, too. Certainly from the loss of blood. Maybe they could conserve their heat. Vossari swept his arms under Azar's, nuzzling his face against Azar's neck. His body wasn't much warmer than Azar's, but his breath was hot.

Azar's idea to locate a library was certainly sound, but Vossari wanted a moment to breathe with him before they moved on. "Why don't we rest by the Nexus until you're a little stronger..." They advised, gently. "You can tell me more about..." They didn't quite know how to describe Azar's ancestral sorcery. It was like ritual, tradition, and raw power all in one. "...how you just did that."

@Sreeya

 

[Darth Arcanos]

Azar was caught off guard by the compliment, especially coming from someone as normally abrasive as Vossari. The Pureblood started actually chuckling a bit, his face suddenly heating up. He was still exhausted and wobbly, but he felt Vossari pull him into an embrace. Azar gazed past Vossari and into the dark horizon in the distance as he felt the wrean nuzzling into his neck. It was a surprisingly tender gesture and one that Azar didn’t want to draw back from. The hot breath against his cold skin felt exquisite and Azar craved more of it.

“Okay..” He said simply, his voice weak. It took him a moment to realize he was still tightly embracing Vossari instead of actually starting to go towards the nexus. Azar finally drew back, leaning against Vossari as they walked closer. He found an overhang of debris under which to sit, sheltering them from the rain.

Azar was shivering from the cold, a creature born in the desert and entirely unaccustomed to rains and the cold. He leaned close against Vossari, his entire body trembling. Azar didn’t have the strength for pyro, especially with no existing element to work with. He tilted his head to look at Vossari, who looked cold but otherwise perfectly comfortable with all the water.

“It’s called b-blood sorcery,” He explained, teeth chattering, “Requires..sacrifice of b-blood and you tap into the p-plane of the Force and pull from the most raw powers you can muster. It varies - for some they call upon their ancestors, others from their own mind, others that turn blood into poison. These ruins belonged to Pureblood in the past..many angered spirits..I used blood sorcery to summon them and allow their vengeance on the creature that corrupted their bloodline,” Azar smirked, “Our old biases and weaknesses can sometimes be useful for vicious attacks," He paused for a long moment, "It was that...and I did not wish for harm to befall you. Anger and passion are the toughest fuels for sorcery. It requires a whole different level of commitment to what you call the 'Dark Side'."

He was practically in Vossari’s arms again, relying on them for warmth, “Water is your element,” He said as he observed the rain, “Will you do a special trick for me?” Azar asked quietly, glancing up at Vossari with a tired smile.

@Fine Dining Set

 

[Vossari Khaldun]

Vossari was in his element, sopping wet. Having lost so much blood just to make it this far, Vossari welcome each drop of rain as it pelted their skin. It fed his thin gills. For all sentients, but especially for the Wreans, water was life. Each cool drop rippled across Vossari as he stood, wrapped in Azar's explanation. It was not merely the power that was amazing. It was the man - Azar. Azar's pull was magnetic, and when Voss was with him, he was happy to be in the pureblood's pull.

At each chattering breath, Vossari pulled closer. Hands slipped around Azar's waist to secure him, let him know that he could just fall into Vossari's arms if so he needed. Voss would carry him. Even if it was painful. Each sentence brought them closer as Vossari silently listened to Azar explain the ancient might of his sorcery. He looked down, softly, at Azar as he spoke. By the time Azar had asked the question, they would have totally swept Azar into their arms.

Vossari was lost in Azar's eyes and soft lips by the time the question was asked. It took him a moment to change gears and actually think of a response before. A smirk appeared on his face, mind quickly racing through the 'special tricks' he had performed hours ago on Azar's ship. "Of course, princess. Anything." With how chilly and wet Azar seemed to be, Voss imagined trying to use the force to do something as mundane as drying out their clothes. With how weak he felt, he wasn't even sure he could muster that. But if Azar asked for something, Azar would have it.

@Sreeya

 

[Darth Arcanos]

Azar had expected Vossari to simply do a trick with water, but the Wrean actually turned the question back on Azar to decide what that would be. The Pureblood was caught off guard, and for a moment he only smiled against Vossari, savoring the warmth of being in their arms. He found it hard to believe this was the same loud-mouthed, difficult and abrasive Sith that managed to draw everyone’s ire. Since he was practically in his arms already, Azar slid right into Vossari’s lap, facing him.

He had no answer initially, but he closed the distance to kiss Vossari, tenderly against the damp lips. It was different than the heated sense of urgency back on the ship - this was a tired, content kiss that surrendered himself to the Wrean. He felt warmer from it, the passion coursing through his veins and to every extremity.

“Don’t kill this part of yourself,” Azar whispered against Vossari’s lips after the kiss. He knew the acolyte would break and reforge himself several times over, “This part of you that you hide under so many layers,” Azar said as he smiled at them, cupping their face into his hands, “This part of you that’s so flawed yet perfect, so beautiful..so tortured..so genuine….so broken,” He brushed aside some of his wet hair from his face, “Keep it hidden, but never erase it,” He said as he slid his hand over to rest above Vossari’s heart, “No matter how many times people try to destroy it,” Azar looked into Vossari’s eyes again, “Because they will,” He smiled sadly, “Sometimes without meaning to.”

@Fine Dining Set

 

[Vossari Khaldun]

There wasn't a day that went by where Vossari didn't feel blisteringly alone. He had no genuine friendships in the order, no personal life outside of the Sith today, and his noticeably bristling demeanor. In truth, it was a suit of armor, meant to protect the hurt Wrean from enduring more. It was better to expect the hatred of others, to revel in it, than it was to expect love, care, or tenderness.

Vossari warmed up as their lips touched, their kiss further lowering Vossari's guard. He couldn't help but smile, arms generously flowing around Azar's chest. It was his words that rumbled within Vossari longer, though. It was like Azar saw right through everything - through his jabs, through his passion, through his anger, even through his care. Azar could see, perhaps more clearly than ever, the desperation that sat, gnawing a hole into Vossari's heart.

They brushed their fingers across Azar's cheek as he spoke. He had made a vow to remain himself through all the strife of life. It was easier to do that when his base feeling was hate - loathing directed towards those around him. Here and now, he felt something different. He felt the shattered pieces of his heart glued together by gold. He ever felt the impact of Azar's words.

"Never." He chuckled, lightly, as his fingers played with Azar's long, wet hair. A light touch of the Force through his black locks helped to extract the liquid, each tender twirl of the finger circling water out from Azar. Like a sponge, he was slowly being wrung out. Azar would be dry again, soon. "Everyone thinks they can change me. I'm never going to be something that I'm not."

He couldn't stay true to himself without a little bit of risk. "Azar," he started wistfully. "I know you have other priorities in your life." Karys, namely, he imagined, but Vossari knew deep inside that he was just lover of Azar's. He couldn't contain his jealousy at that fact. His mind shot back to their conversation on Umbara - to the word plaything. A part of him liked the idea of being little more than a toy for Azar's pleasure, but, as he looked into the dewy glow of Azar's sopping wet gaze, Vossari wanted more. "I haven't been able to stop thinking about you since Saleucami."

Certainly, there were moments of titillation during that adventure. More than that, though, there was an exact moment that Vossari could not make leave his mind, no matter how much he wanted: The first time their eyes met in that cell, when Azar nearly killed Voss for getting them locked up. He could tell just from Azar's eyes that he was a man that would move mountains for his desires. And now, even still knowing so little of Azar outside of their time together, he wanted to be that desire. "I don't want to ruin this, but I don't know if I can help it." He wanted to be casual, to not care that Karys was his true lover, that he was meant to be on the side. And he enjoyed the moments of their adventure together, their dances together and their repartee. "I still want you. I just want more and more of you." This was a whisper, tender, and a hope they half-expected to be shot down. It might be good for Vossari to just put it all out there - if Azar dumps him there, well, at least he knew where he stood. Vossari was not a nuanced person by any means, and the unclear boundaries between where they stood as Sith, as colleagues, or as lovers rocked around their noggin daily.

@Sreeya

 

[Darth Arcanos]

Azar could tell things went deeper with Vossari. He could tell even with the way they were intimate on the ship. It began with fire and lust, but he wouldn’t forget those gentle gestures, the tenderness, the passion in those chestnut eyes that made it more akin to lovemaking. Azar knew admitting any of this was painful for Vossari. Sith weren’t the best at keeping their genuine feelings on lockdown, and Vossari never let others know this dug at them further than they shared.

He felt the warmth rushing over him not just from the moment they shared, but from the effortless way Vossari drew the moisture out of his hair and clothing. It was a Force use Azar couldn’t fathom mastering, and yet the Wrean did it so effortlessly, so naturally.

“I know..” Azar whispered back after Vossari finished speaking, his gaze lowering. He thought back to the club where they danced and he told Vossari to keep his heart locked up. It felt like a century ago now that they sat in the rain in a world so far away from everything else. Azar exhaled and leaned in to bury his face against Vossari’s shoulder, closing his eyes.

“I can’t give you my whole heart, Vossari,” Azar said quietly before he drew back and looked at the Wrean, “I desire you..I want you, I want to be on many more adventures like these with you.. When it’s just us. I want to make love with you, I want to laugh with you, smile with you, tell you what hurts me, listen to what hurts you,” He chuckled to himself, “I adore you, little fish,” He said with a sad smile, “But I cannot give you all of me. You have to decide if that’s enough..”

Azar didn’t move off Vossari’s lap, but he would if it became clear the Wrean was uncomfortable. For now he wanted to be nowhere but his arms. He didn’t want to stop gazing into his honeyed eyes. A part of him knew Karys being Vossari’s Master added another layer of complication. Vossari would have to keep his feelings hidden around the Massassi so they couldn’t be leveraged as a teaching mechanism as would be within Karys’ rights.

@Fine Dining Set

 

[Vossari Khaldun]

Vossari curled closer around Azar as he spoke, quieting to think through Azar's request. Would these shared moments be enough? Would Vossari be able to live without being the only thing on Azar's mind? Could this arrangement possibly work out if both of them acted like drama queens? Deep within, Vossari felt the gnawing jealousy, still. For now, he chose to let it go, exhaling softly onto Azar's red goosebumps. His hand swept under Azar's three manicured fingers and he brought them to his lips, gently kissing the proverbial ring on Azar's hand.

"I'll take as much as I can get of you." His grin was devious as he sighed contentedly. "I won't lie, I love being a thorn in your side." Vossari chuckled, lightly, with only a tinge of bitterness. Certainly, much of the resentment between him and Karys had dissipated into a begrudging respect when the two learned how aligned their interests were. There was still an underlying jealousy - not just at Karys, but at Azar as well. Karys was a beautiful, powerful man who commanded every room he was in. Azar was similar. The two of them together made an agonizing amount of sense, and half of Vossari wanted to stay out of it, while another half wanted to be in the middle.

"But when you're with me, I want your all." Rage, sadness, cunning, joy...all these things he had felt with Azar. He felt whole. He needed Azar to be the same. If he expressed that occasionally with Force-induced anger, with moments of lustful passion, or just with a quiet moment like this, it was all the better for Voss.

Vossari's stomach grumbled loudly as they sat - while now, blissfully, hydrated, the Wrean was starving from the day's affairs. "We flew past a village on the way here." Vossari noted, remembering the huts of locals that the speeder had carried them above to reach this abode. Maybe they would have some insight into the planet, or at the very least, a warm meal and a bed to sleep on? "We could leave a marker here, come back tomorrow. It's been a long day." And Vossari desperately needed cuddles.

@Sreeya

 

[Darth Arcanos]

The village was the perfect reprieve from the trauma they faced in that manor. Azar used the chance to rest and heal, but it also allowed the two more opportunities to be intimate. Vossari would notice that Azar never spent the night in the same room, always opting to retire to his own even after a night of passion. Other than that, he was present and engaged as usual. He was getting to learn Vossari on a deeper level, peeling back the layers one by one.

The inn was buzzing with excited chatter about the ‘hag on haunted hill being killed’. It became clear that the manor was considered cursed and a blight on the locals. Azar instructed Vossari to keep their mouth shut, knowing the Wrean was likely to start loudly bragging about their exploits. The Pureblood quietly eavesdropped, gathering enough information to know that the witch had been an enemy of the sorcerers of Tund. With her gone, there was talk of the sorcerers emerging again.

Through it all, Azar noticed a figure in the corner of the inn, dressed in a black hood that hid the face. However, the Pureblood could sense a pulse in the Force in their presence. He noticed the figure get up to leave and Azar quietly followed, bidding Vossari to join.

He kept a respectable distance, realizing that the figure actually went back to the site of the ruins. Azar decided to step out of the shadows eventually, taking a few steps towards the figure.

“Were you the ones responsible?” A calm, female voice resounded before she even turned around.

Azar said nothing. The woman turned around, lowering her hood. She had pink skin and looked completely like a Zeltron. But the eyes were unmistakably pureblood. The woman looked between the two of them.

“I had to come see for myself,” She said as she gazed back at the ruins, “You must be exceedingly powerful to have defeated her,” The woman mused, “Did you find the blood canvas?” She asked, “Does it exist?”

Azar would pinch Vossari if he started opening his mouth. He focused back on the woman, “Who are you?”

She simply smirked, “Exactly what you’ve been looking for.”

@Fine Dining Set

 

[Vossari Khaldun]

The journey to the village was quiet. Vossari and Azar were quiet as their speeder abandoned the old mansion. Still, Vossari couldn't shake the feeling they were being watched by someone, something, as they made their way towards a lantern-coated village in the foothills of a forest. Small homes surrounded a town center, as residents danced in the square and cheered across the town. Vossari practically clung to Azar, despite their attempt to project a confident, strong image. The pair of them strolled into town as the sunset turned to a brilliant, lavender evening.

Music and drink flowed as the villagers celebrated the defeat of their ancient, mortal foe. The Witch's Acropolis was haunted for longer than the village kept records - none who ventured into her wicked manor survived. On the magical world of Tund, such instances of spiritual intercession were, unfortunately, common. Frequent use of sorcery from the mysterious Sorcerers had rendered the landscape haunted by both the powers of the living and the dead through the Dark Side of the Force. It was power that awed the locals, causing as much inspiration as it did fear.

As Vossari went to speak, he felt his lips pinched. Brown eyes wandered towards Azar, then back to the 'Zeltron' in question. Ah...it was all coming together. "Let me buy you a drink, boys." She gestured towards the barkeep, summoning him for three full glasses of a local honey wine. She offered each of them a choice of a glass.

She raised a glass as she cleared her mouth to speak. Her voice was commanding, and she grabbed the attention of the bar, setting a foot on her chair. "A toast, here and now, to the brave adventurers that defeated the hag Al-Arakim!" Vossari froze and grabbed his glass. "Whoever and wherever they may be, we are forever in their debt!" The whole inn aye-aye'd, roaring with an affectionate laughter brought on by good cheer and a collective buzz. She looked back at the pair with a contented smirk. As the bar danced, she lowered her voice, so that only the three of them would be heard. Her voice still carried a natural, golden glint. She seemed dangerously charming.

"There was once a prophesy, in this region. The powers that have oppressed our people have held a cursed hold here for a long time. Our forefathers foretold of one who would return. A true brother of our people." Her eyes narrowed in on Azar as she spoke, only occasionally glancing at Vossari. "Some said an avatar of the Gods themselves." Vossari thought back to his Sith history class to cover the pantheon. The left-handed God, Typhojem, rattled into his mind. A being of immense power that was known to work through avatars, literal manifestations of His will. Vossari's eyes chased Azar - did this woman believe suggest he was a God?

Vossari couldn't help himself. "And what do your riddles have to do with us?"

"If you do not care about the will of the Gods and destiny itself, you must at least realize this. Al-Arakim hoarded a great many artifacts to enhance her power, drawn from the life essence of sorcerers and peasants." She stretched a red hand across the table as she took a sip of her mead. "They are superweapons that shift the balance of power on our world. I have contacts who would be quite interested in such things. We have an organization of like-minded people, in search of things like the Blood Canvas..." Her voice trailed off as her eyes split between the pair.

"But you wouldn't know about any of these things, would you?"

@Sreeya

 

[Darth Arcanos]

Being Kissai, Azar was accustomed to riddles and vague speech. It was a common practice among nobility as well, honeyed words and twisted manners of speaking to confuse the other party into divulging far more than they should. The Pureblood observed silently, first testing his drink for poison before taking a sip.

“If you expect us to go on an artifact hunt for you, you’re wasting your time,” Azar said coolly, “The artifacts were created by the Sorcerers of Tund,” He said flatly, “You are some administrative lackey for them at best, because I’d be severely disappointed if you were anything more,” His gaze flicked up and down before he took another sip, “We did destroy Al-Arakim and the illusion she constructed,” Azar revealed, “I am capable of it because I am a Pureblood, something your superiors have stopped respecting and valuing years ago. Al-Arakim’s entire enterprise was built upon the pillars of blood sorcery,” Azar was talking off the script and outright bullshitting at this point, but he did it very convincingly, “Only someone like me can even hope to channel the powers needed to defeat her and her kind.”

Azar set his drink down, staring intently at her, “Blood sorcery always collects a debt,” He said darkly, “What I did to kill something like her marked a debt. The collection? Souls of the Sorcerers of Tund,” He said quietly.

The woman’s eyes widened and she curled her fingers against the surface of the table. Fear clearly flashed in her eyes.

“If the cult wishes to survive, it must pay its debts to me, the avatar of the old gods. You will serve our cause and you will surrender the artifacts you recover which ultimately belong to the true Sith,” He held up his fingers, which she would recognize as the mark of a royal, pureblood Sith.

Dice: Azar bullshitting 16/20

@Fine Dining Set

 

[Vossari Khaldun]

Wow. Azar was such a good storyteller, he had Vossari completely wound up in his lie. As he listened, he thought back to Azar's comments on Blood Sorcery. It would make sense that he didn't divulge the true power of Blood Sorcery, or its horrible cost, until this moment. And Vossari knew too little about magicks entirely to understand that Azar was lying. He leaned into his hand and sipped on honeyed wine as Azar spun his fable, eyes never leaving the pureblood's excited lips.

It was true, then. Azar was the avatar of the Sith gods. That would explain his meteoric rise, his magnetic personality, his force of will...it was all a part of destiny. Vossari drank in the feeling of being in his presence, sliding a hand to Azar's leg to rub his thigh as he spoke. And while Vossari looked on in adoration, the 'Zeltron' looked on in fear.

It was as if she saw the face of a ghost, looking at him. While she was not gifted in sorcery, she could feel the presence of the Dark Side radiating off of him to such an extent she had never seen before. Moreover, his words confirmed the twisted fantasies that she held about her world - that a dark savior was coming, to liberate them from the oppression of the Sorcerers and return the Purebloods to their rightful status. "Indeed we do, Master." She snapped her fingers and gestured with a raised fist.

The village inn, alive with dance and teeming with joy, stopped at the snap of her fingers. They turned, in lockstep, towards the table that Azar and Vossari sat at. And, one by one, each of the villagers kneeled on both knees and prostrated towards Azar. It was yet unclear if they were bound under some spell, merely a highly organized group, or some strange combination of the two. No matter what, they offered themselves rapidly to Azar, their eyes never rising above his shoes from the ground.

"The Blood Sorcerer. A fitting title for the Avatar of the Gods. We are humbled to be your servants. May the Sith's return bring us ALL fortune!" She, too, took a curtsey, which transitioned slowly into a greatly deferential bow. "We will direct your hand to the Sorcerers, that you may strike them down! Hail the Blood Sorcerer!" The crowd resonated into an "All Hail, All Hail, All Hail!" chant that continued nearly for minutes, before the cultist/villagers rose to their feet and the music continued.

Vossari froze throughout the exchange, truly caught off guard by the woman's zeal. Fear gave way to passion. Azar had cracked her shell, and created a new ally in the foothills of Tund. Vossari chuckled as he whispered into Azar's ear. "Is there anything you can't do?"

@Sreeya