Ziost - Crown of the Sith Empire

Xal had spent the blackout looking out over the darkened city and drinking wine. He had never seen New Adasta like this and there was something fascinating about the situation. The darkness apealed to him and frightened him.

Staring into it and wondering how or why the power had been lost, Xal's imagination began constructing several interesting scenarios. This did not stop once the power was restored.
Seeing the lights of the city slowly turn on, only added to the possibilities. Fueled by a few bottles of wine, an unlabeled vial and the revalations of previous hours, the story of the blackout only became more elaborate.

At some point, he felt some of it should be shared.

"Have you found the cure to the darkness plague? What sacrifices do you require?"

He sent the message and poured another glass.

Standing outside Xal's apartment building, Tyr tried the comm one more time. His fangs were bare, snarling as the small device continuously chimed. Again, there was no answer. The massive shistavanen stomped into the building and soon found himself at Xal's door, pounding heavily enough that the portal shook under his blows. In his other fist, the comm chimed, he could faintly hear the sound of the receiving comm inside.

The door opened quickly, with GR8-1 standing on the other side.

"Captain Tyr, good. He could use a friend right now." She stepped aside. "Come in, please."

Tyr managed to keep himself from crushing the comm in his fist, stuffing it in a pouch on his belt. He glanced around the opulent apartment, eyes quickly adjusting the dark, marching into the apartment. The shistavanen was still wearing his armour, thermal cloak fluttering about his feet as he walked.

Spotting Xal on the couch, and smelling the wine on the air, he stalked over, growling softly. "Why aren't you answering your skrakking comm?" Tyr demanded.

There was a delayed reaction to the man's arrival. Slowly, Xal looked up.

"Tyr! Good to see you. Have you seen my commlink? I've been meaning to comm you."

"I told you, Xal, you're holding it." GR8-1 sighed. It looked at Tyr. "He sampled one of his experiments. He's been like this for hours."

Tyr reached down and took Xal’s wrist in his meaty paw, holding it up to Xal’s face. The skin on his palm and fingertips was thickened and rough by more than two decades of holding weapons, the back of his hand was furred and the fur on the sides of his fingers brushed the arkanian’s arm. “This comm?” he barked. Tyr’s rough voice was harsh and short, but quiet. His eyes and fangs glinted in the low light.

"Your hands are very strong. They're very good hands." He looked up at Tyr. "I never saw your hand workout."

Tyr was too angry to make a suggestive clap back, dropping Xal’s wrist with a snort of annoyance. The shistavanen unfastened his thermal cloak, swinging it off and tossing it over the arm of the couch. “What’s this nonsense about a plague of darkness?” He began removing the black armour, glaring at Xal’s droid, “you think we could get some glasses of water in here, or what?”

"Right away." she nodded.

"Oh, the plague. Yes, I've been asked to cure a plague. Then, everything went dark. That wasn't the plague, it was something else. I wonder what it was?" He looked out the window again. "There was so much darkness. It's still there. We just can't see it through the lights."

Under his armour Tyr was wearing a plain black shirt and pants. He shook himself, a massive quake from his muzzle to the tip of his tail. The shistavanen threw himself down on the sofa, tail folded to one side. “A plague, huh? That Outer Rim Flu thing? You’ll do fine,” he assured. He sighed heavily, thinking for a few long moments, a pair of golden eyes in a dense blackness, “the dark is nothing to worry about. It’s what’s hiding in the dark you should be afraid of.”

"Darkness is an old friend." he shook his head. "It dwells within me, within us all. In it's depths, though... The things we can't see... The secrets we can't know..."

GR8-1 returned with a pitcher of water and glasses filled with ice.

“You’re damn right about that,” Tyr growled, denying the darkness inside was just self-delusion. He stretched his feet out in front of him and folded his hands behind his head. “You’ve got a real bug in your brain tonight, Bright Eyes.”

"Yes, well, there's a lot for me to think about." He fumbled with an empty vial. "I don't think this is helping."

Tyr leaned forward to pour two glasses of water. Sitting back again, he plucked the vial from Xal's hand and replaced it with a glass of water. The shistavanen cautiously sniffed at the vial, "what is this, anyway?"

"Neuralalalal... stimulant." he explained. "It's suposed to make you... think... better. I don't think it's working."

Tyr tossed the vial on the table. Turning, he tapped the arkanian on the forehead with a claw, "you could use a little less thinking sometimes."

"It's what I do." He shrugged. "And, there's so much to think about. What would I do instead?"

Shrugging and flopping back against the couch, "go blank for a bit. Just, I dunno, do some biceps curls and not think about anything for a bit." He didn't rebuke Xal for drinking wine on top of his untested potion, instead, "what do you need to think about so hard that you got to potion yourself up?"

"I can't tell you." His tone was more serious. "I'm sorry."

He drank another glass of water. "Thank you, for checking on me."

"Secrets, huh?" Tyr huffed in annoyance, "what would I know, anyway? I'm a mushroom," he sounded angry, drumming the claws of one hand against the arm of the couch. Eventually, "well, you look fine," he pushed himself up, his tail waving as it was finally freed from being trapped by the cushions.