#because khem is absolutely not saying ''i would NOT eat him for you'' | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

crqstalite · 5 years

Text

pt. 17, into the lion’s den, pt. 6 (mierrio & naji)

bleh this is so ugly and was supposed to be 4k words but i decided to leave kiv and tri for another chapter.

written: 9.26.19. word count: 2,546.

════ ⋆★⋆ ════ character song: grrrls, aviva

character file: mierrio revel, darth nox & naji iresso, barsen'thor of the jedi order

the cool but warm air of the alderaanian sunset is rather welcome, mierrio believes. the way her pale skin prickles as her dress brushes the flowers along the path is enough to let a small smile form on her lips. if she'd taken andronikos out here, they'd get lost among the patches and return early in the morning. just as storybook lovers would. she'd always wanted a home in the sprawling landscape of some lush planet, but the fury seemed to be her perpetual home for some reason. didn't keep her from dreaming of finally owning a real piece of property instead of the underbelly her cult kept in her name on nar shaddaa.

ah, dreams for another day when the empire finally crushed the republic under their metaphorical and physical boot. that would be a glorious day.

however, the person beside her isn't andronikos. it's a blonde sith lord who's collected a few flowers in between her delicate hands, stopping to pick up a few every couple of minutes. she's odd, definitely a bottom-of-the-basket sith. most would leave the flowers to look pretty among the immaculate bushes, but she stops even though the thorny bushes leave clear white scratch marks on her wrists and forearms. mankael is clearly still very young, her skin still shining and free of corruption. the only way to tell she was sith was the way her eyes glowed an unnatural yellow. even the way she carried herself across the dance floor with her soldier of an escort cried out that she was much stiffer than she should be. "mankael?" mierrio speaks up, as the aforementioned sith turned toward her in a nearly frantic motion, "have you ever been to sith court before?"

"i can not say i have, my lord." mankael responds, as she lowers her gaze from her to the bottom of her pitch black gown. it doesn't fit properly, the straps hanging much too tight and in turn, her meager breasts not receiving all the attention they could've. (sith lord or not, mierrio still had a good eye for fashion, and the men at court were looking rather nice this time around. mankael would be what they considered a snatch. especially because of her childish nature and willingness to follow.) "this is all new to me."

"you didn't attend the year prior?" she turns an eyebrow up, plucking her own blood red flower from the bushes. it prickles her fingertips as she considers threading it through her hair. why wouldn't she attend sith court? it was the best reason to get unnecessarily drunk and dress up. given not all women enjoyed that (most were bloodthirsty and would've rather enjoyed a good duel -she was sure there'd be one the wrath would participate in, later during the week- or fighting the killiks beyond thul's walls), but it still seemed odd. almost all sith packed in for a good couple of nights. her own apprentice excluded, but she had her own mission on balmorra (aka mierrio wanted to get rid of the insufferable girl for the next couple of days, and spend some well-earned time with her husband). why wouldn't a self-sufficient sith lord come? "why is that?"

mankael hesitates before responding, a solid minute between the question and answer. "it sounds silly, but i didn't wish to attend last year." she fiddles with the flowers stems, her hands visibly shaking now that she looks closer. her skin is a few shades darker than her own, as if she spends a lot of time in more natural sunlight. and maybe the fact she hasn't truly embraced the dark side as others have. "i had other priorities to attend to..."

mierrio makes a noise that she hopes is more accepting than guttaral. "who's apprentice were you? i haven't met your master yet, have i?"

"i was trained under master x'ire." she says quietly, picking more flowers out of the verdant green bushes. she's beginning to radiate much more nervous energy than is most likely required for this question (mierrio's rather proud of herself that she knows how to sense emotion now, she finally learned how to from now lord ezridivia; unwillingly, yes, but done well, absolutely), and that makes mierrio just a tad suspicious. why is she nervous to ask such a basic question? if she asked the same thing to the wrath, especially next to her husband (for some odd reason; the man was always following her around at gatherings with that look that said he didn't approve of her or her opinions. fuck him, he could think whatever he wanted to, he just had to remember his place), they'd both be offended.

"x'ire? the pale zabrak i met inside?" mankael nods as mierrio chuckles delicately, "what a pansy! a nervous man inside and out!" she was only partially sure of that, mostly because unlike the insufferable darth amarillis (quinn, she had the audacity to hyphen her name. either take the the man's last name or don't at all.), she did not have the ability to sense things like anxiety or even light and dark sided alignment yet. yet. zash had screwed her over by teaching her next to nothing, but she was a fast learner. or at least she liked to consider herself one. mierrio only called x'ire a pansy to see the girl's reaction. chaos and mayhem was what she enjoyed, and feeding off that energy was a wonderfully powerful feeling.

"my master is far from nervous, my lord. he's rather deadly, especially on the battlefield." her voice grows a bit louder as the wind plays with the hems of their skirts and her blonde hair goes flying around her shoulders. she doesn't even seem a bit angry, looking away from her to the mountaintops dusted with white snow. "w-who was your master?" she asks as she shivers, though the warm gusts continue to blow around them.

"darth zash." mierrio grimaces just at the thought of the ancient woman, or spirit she figures. was zash even really female? it'd never been a question she asked, or even wondered before now. "i despised the hag, and now i have her rank and offices on dromound kaas."

"wow. it's a real dog eat dog world out here, huh?" mankael says wistfully. this wasn't at all what mierrio had expected. any real sith would've gone on a tangent about why their master was nothing to be laughed at, or even joke alongside her when she'd spoken about zash. no reaction from mankael, as if she wasn't even paying attention with the handful of flowers in her delicate hands.

"you speak as if you haven't experienced it yourself yet. i step over those i need to, to ascend to power i have to eat the other dogs." mierrio responds, standing firmly in front of the other woman (in her brand new heeled boots, she's taller than mankael is). looking the woman up and down and the other woman wrings her hands out in front of her in the meager bouquet, she's beginning to feel as if something is very, very wrong right now. why does she keep speaking as if she's acting sith, rather than speaking from experience? even trying to go through her memories of her time at the academy, she still doesn't remember mankael's blonde hair. where had she met her? was it important? (it probably wasn't, to be completely honest. but mierrio would've remembered most of the acolytes she'd come in with and we're trained around the same time as her. given she didn't remember the skinny, frail failure of a redhead that'd been in her group, but that was to be expected after so many years)

had she met her?

"ah, i stay firmly out of the politics of the council, is all." she quickly counters, putting up her hands in the universal please don't get any closer, i'm not making a personal attack on you gesture. her eyes continue wandering anywhere away from mierrio. "they don't fascinate me enough to really get involved." she cuts herself off, as if she's about to continue her sentence but chose at the last minute not too. "the sun's beginning to dip, we should really go inside, my lord." she hurriedly scrunches up her fist to fit all the flowers within it, and quickly steps back. her shivering is getting stronger, even though the sun beams down on them from where it's beginning to rest beneath the mountains. it's not cold, and it's not atypically warm for alderaan either. chances are, this sith wasn't from tatooine.

the lack of corruption makes sense now too. the lack of scars on her face and the childish presence she felt lining the girl's entire aura. narrowing her eyes, she adjusts one of the straps on her dress and wonders if the others noticed as well. there isn't any real mark for any sort of faker to be without, but is this a spy for thul? no, she wouldn't be force sensitive then. but if...

it hits her as she sees her walking away, the black fabric billowing in the wind around her feet. not only is there already a lord o'vare that she knows (and killed years prior; the women was banking on usurping her from her chair on the council. she and khem quickly dealt with her when she came for her and using her as an example, no one else has attempted it again), but also that this woman she'd seen before. a lack of scars and babyish face contorted into one of anger and hate was what she'd seen on the....the..the word alluded her at the moment. but clearly, this woman was not a sith. she wasn't, and mierrio had left herself vulnerable at her expense.

lightning crackled from her fingertips as she shoots a volt of magenta lightning at the girl. not enough to shock her entire system and leave her paralyzed, but enough to at least leave her shaking. it hits her target, and she stops, a shriek erupting from the woman as her limbs shiver at odd angles, mierrio growing ever closer. her hair stands up on end before she stops, the girl clearly breathing hard had dropped all her flowers around her as she tentatively turns her head over her left shoulder, her eyes wide. "m-my lord?" she questions, innocent as if she hasn't just attempted to trick a darth on the council.

"the game is over, barsen'thor." mierrio responds, finally the title graces her mind as the girl's eyes widen at the realization darth nox has just made about her. mierrio's face breaks into a dark grin as the other falls back on the ground, scurrying backwards as lightning crackles in between her finger tips. "i was told about you, you know. before our little...say scuffle on taris. you remember your good friend, darth nox? you remember me, don't you iresso?" she probably looks as intimidating as she believes she does, in heeled boots and the lavender tulle dress trailing behind her. the sun is truly beginning to set, and the cold will set in soon. "should i leave you for the cold to claim? or should i end you here and now?"

now she's shaking for a reason completely outside of the lightning that's probably still flowing through her system. fear. oh mierrio loved instilling fear in those she trapped, and naji was no different. fear radiated off her in waves, and it only made mierrio chuckle behind a pale, manicured hand. she'd called her master a pansy, but the way the woman quaked, she figured she was more coward than her master was. it was funny, the jedi had named this poor excuse of a master to be their warden.

she'd been told extensively about the barsen'thor of the order before her excursion to taris, a trip only made to undermine her mission there and eliminate her completely if it was possible (mierrio herself despised the trip to the rakghoul infested planet, but as always, andronikos found a way to entertain her while they were there; her top was apparently on backwards when they returned, as talos so skillfully pointed out). full name being naji iresso, married to a certain lieutenant felix iresso (it'd taken her too long to figure irex fess was the same man) and traveling with the current jedi battlemaster, master kiveqil delux. sadly for naji (a horrid name choice. who would name a child that?), the sith weren't always in the dark about their opponents.

a burn is beginning to form on her right forearm and is beginning to show around her neck where she must've accidentally aimed for when she had her back towards her. mierrio, obviously doesn't feel too bad about it. her dress' strap is beginning to fall as she crunches into herself, her amber eyes unable to focus properly. "ah, my darling iresso. what to do, what to do?" she pauses, pacing around the jedi girl, "do what you did to my husband when we met last? do what you attempted to do to me? you got here rather easily, those aren't your real eyes. that isn't your accent or name either. so what is your real purpose here?" mierrio asks, just barely lifting her skirt to pull out her double-bladed saber hilt from where it rested on the inside of her calf. naji looks absolutely terrified, her blonde curls messily falling around her shoulders as she bumps into the wall behind her. mierrio has blocked her in from running much further away from her. the imposter had been found out. "who are you here for, naji?"

she doesn't respond, in fact she instead stands so quickly and bolts back towards the thul palace before mierrio is even aware of what's happened. she'd dashed away with a certain ability she must've learned while with the order. mierrio smirks, sith hadn't gone without learning certain movement based abilities either. igniting her saber as she runs, she eventually turns a corner that leads with the flowers she's dropping as she runs, and the flimsy shoes she'd been wearing are thrown off in a corner when she eventually reaches the balcony where'd they'd begun their walk through the garden at, slowing the extremely fast ability she'd just used. breathing hard, she can't even find through the dark attire where the woman had gone in the crowd.

"nox. stop acting like a child and running about." the wrath is infuriatingly reminding her off as mierrio disignites her weapon. the captain is still on her arm, as they both stand near the balcony, presumably disgustingly enjoying the sunset together (the wrath is prude, even mierrio knows that. and, she also happens to know the captain is years upon years older than her. fascinating blackmail for another time.) "whatever it is, it can't be serious."

"stay out of my way, wrath." mierrio growls, shoving it down her dress' front for the time being and also wading into the crowd. if she can catch up, she can dispose of the lost time with an execution for the sith populace.

she would not let her get away, not without an explanation. or her head on a platter. that worked always.

#swtor #star wars the old republic #swtor oc #star wars #oc #original character #mierrio revel #naji iresso #female jedi consular #female sith inquisitor #swtor fanfiction #bloodlines #into the lion's den

3 notes · View notes

eccentricandanachronistic · 7 years

Text

Tuva – Reeking of Mysticism…

I was well into my second week of my dream Trans Siberian Railway ride. So far, I had had a 50 hour train ride from Moscow to Novosibirsk, a couple of days of exploring the town of Barnaul with the help of my Couchsurfing host Sasha, scouting around for tent and camping equipment, and almost a week of trekking up in the Altai mountains. One part of Siberia that needed a bit of a detour, but fascinated me enough to be willing to jump through all hoops required, was the majestic Republic of Tuva...

I took the night train from Barnaul to Abakan, and I knew right away that I was in a part of the country that was absolutely off the tourist radar because, for the first time, I felt conscious of hard stares from fellow passengers. Many curious people came and struck up a conversation (and even took pictures for their Instagram!). I reveled in the attention for a bit, till digging deep into my limited vocabulary and answering with strain in incoherent Russian became a little too stressful, and I feigned ignorance of the language for the rest of the evening and went off to sleep on my berth.

Early the next morning, I arrived at Abakan. There were quite a few 'marshrutkas' (mini-buses) outside to depart for Kyzyl, capital of Tuva. I sat in and more curious stares and questions followed. I felt more conscious than ever, for I hadn't freshened up or even once checked myself in the mirror in the last 24 hours, so I knew I must look a sight (and a downright ugly representative of India, to boot). I refrained from talking much, but before long, was most pleasantly surprised to find one of my fellow passengers come up to me and speak in impeccable English. She introduced herself as Serji, a native of Toora-khem – a small Tuvan village, more than a half day's bus ride from Kyzyl – but having worked in St Petersburg in the past, and volunteered as part of an International Student Run Organisation at exciting places like Colombia! I sensed in her a fierce desire no different from mine to see the world and understand as much as possible of the cultures beyond hers, and was highly impressed. She donned the hat of guide and translator for the rest of the bus ride; I was relieved that all questions about me were now directed to her!

Once we reached Kyzyl, I started looking for a 'Student's Hostel', a reference to which I had found online somewhere on only one page in English. With Serji's help, I now did a search in Russian on Yandex, and she was of great help in mining the exact name of the building and street from among all the Cyrillic the search results bombarded back. Turns out it is the local University students' accommodation, which is let out for tourists during the summer holidays – only there aren't many visiting this part of the country. Serji decided to stay at the same hostel for the night, for she had missed the day's bus to her village. We also met Roman, an ardent photographer originally from the Urals, who had also just dropped in earlier that day.

Right on the opposite side of the road was Vostorg – a place for cheap eats, which is where we had lunch. Later that evening, we walked around the City Centre and took in the sights around – the museum, theatre, and other pretty edifices. The sight that stayed with me however was the mandatory statue of Lenin erected at the Centre and, in the distance inscribed on the hills overlooking the city, the letters 'Om Mani Padme Hum' in Tibetan script, visible in the same frame!

I next walked up to the 'Center of Asia' Monument at the Heritage Park that evening. Right next to it was the Kyzyl Tourist Information Center, the upper floor of which had a lovely Café with a balcony. From here, one could see the river Yenisei running alongside the Park.

Presently I was joined by Roman, who said he had managed to hire a car to visit southern Tuva the next day, and invited me to join him to split costs. I said yes, but was forced to change my mind not too long after when I learnt that the following evening, the National Tuvan Theatre would be playing host to the Annual International Concert for 'Khoomei' – the mystical art of throat singing, and emitting multiple octaves of sound, prevalent in this region as well as Mongolia. I jumped – this was the thing I was most hoping to see in Tuva! And to think the Annual Concert is at the very time I am here – if this isn't serendipity, what is?!

I went out early the next morning to the theatre, and just as it opened, secured a ticket to the concert that evening. The rest of the day was spent at the National Tuvan Museum , which has a fabulous collection of artefacts, and the star attraction of which is the 'Scythian Gold' (no photography allowed unfortunately). Serji took me to an authentic Tuvan café for lunch, where I had some local lamb soup, 'chorba', and 'snezhok', which is very similar to our own lassi! I then saw Serji off at the bus station and thanked her for everything…

The concert began as scheduled at 7.00pm in the evening, and no time was wasted in getting the performers to show off their incredible vocal magic – my hairs stood up from the word go! Over the next two hours, local music groups as well as other national and international participants put up a spectacular show. This certainly goes down as one of the most unique and surreal experiences I have been privy to EVER!

The next day, Roman was bound for Western Tuva, and was kind enough to ask again if I could join in. After the concert, I felt I had pretty much seen what I had come to Tuva for, and now anything more would be a bonus. We were to be seeing some nomadic families in action as well as their 'yurts' (tents), so I was excited about that. My plan was to return that night to Kyzyl and head out by bus or train.

We started with seeing the Buddhist temple of Ustuu-Khuree, which had plenty of prayer flags around it. We'd bought prayer flags ourselves, and tied them along with our 'zhelanie' (wishes). Now that I write this a year later, I can indeed happily confirm that my wish did come true!

Next was 'Aldyn-Bulak', an ethno-village recreation nestled amidst the hills. Pretty, albeit a bit too 'set up' for my liking.

Some breathtaking sights greeted us the rest of the way. I had lost count of the rainbows I had seen on this trip; while the sight of the vast steppes amidst the backdrop of rolling hills looked otherworldly indeed…

Soon after, however, the car broke down, and could not be fixed no matter how hard our driver and co-driver tried. It had turned pitch dark, and there was not a source of light close by save for our torches. Obviously there was no going back to Kyzyl to catch the bus out now. Roman had a reservation at a 'yurt' that night, and called them for help. Soon after, a car came our help; we were ferried to the closest village of 'Bizhiktig Khaya', where the nephew of the lady who managed the yurt stayed, and we were to spend the night there. The following morning, another car arrived to take us to the actual yurt, which was about an hour's drive away. Once there, we settled in, and I took in every bit of the well endowed tent; there was sheepskin all around, meant to help keep the place warm. We were then treated to a delightful spread of salad, 'lepeshka' (bread), and soup – all lip-smackingly delicious!

We hired yet another car – a 4x4 and quite the fuel guzzler – and went out to see some more places around; first to another yurt, this time not part of a camp, but owned by a real nomadic family. I enjoyed having the spotlight on me all over again, and for good reason – Indians did not drop by in these parts everyday (though turns out they know of the singer Bittu Malik!). It was time to head back – sunset views were a delight to take in, as was the sight of horses and cattle herd returning to their farms.

That night happened to be 'Rakhi Poornima' (August Full moon)… and also my birthday! I kept running over a thousand thoughts in my head, while snuggled in my sheepskin blanket, and couldn't sleep for excitement. I came out to admire the yurt lit up by the glorious moonlight, and froze the frame in my eyes and lens forever…

The next morning, after a wholesome breakfast, we climbed up the nearby hills to see 3000-year old peteroglyphs carved on the rocks.

We were presently joined by an Italian girl, Alessandro, who had just come back from a week-long trip among the reindeer herders, and was heading back that afternoon to Abakan; we decided to take the ride back with her. Just before sending us off, our host performed a shaman ritual on us, blessing us with closed eyes and deeply resonating chants – very mystic, very powerful…

We passed by the beautiful region of Khakassiya on the way, and reached Abakan by late evening. This is where I bid goodbye to both my new friends – Alessandro and Roman – for I would be staying the night at a hostel in town before heading out the next morning. I had the rest of the night to ruminate over the overwhelmingly different and transcendent experience the last few days had been, and marveled at my destiny – I had come seeking so little, and ended up getting so much more than I bargained for; not very different from what they say about God – you take one step towards him with pure faith in your heart, and he will take ten closer to you…

On to Krasnoyarsk next, where more exciting adventures await…!

#travel #tuva #tuvan throat singing #republic #russia #trans siberian railway #khoomei #tuvan

0 notes