Ziost - Crown of the Sith Empire

Moyr could think of many reasons to be there, related to Massassi, Mandalorians still willing to do her bidding, or the Bex she was about to nurture, learn more of the Hoth deployment of theirs. But those would be excuses. Deep in her heart, she needed to find a way forward from her losses, and in the maelstrom of events that had just come through most of what was left was numbness and uncertainty.

So she chose shades and trench coat rather than her armour, and cast her menacing Sith Lord demeanour aside to just find some anonymity at a place that felt a little like a return to the basics, something between Korriban mess hall and seedy bars of the galaxy from even earlier days.

In the corner of perhaps the last functioning seedy bar still on Ziost was another man sitting quietly in a booth drinking by himself.

The man was all too familiar. The script for seeing him triggered tension, and with it abdominal pain, but she closed her eyes and forced herself to reassess. After all those years there was little reason to succumb to that knee-jerk reaction that spoke more of her vulnerabilities than strengths. With her recent sacrifice she had aged mentally quickly, and the continuity between the teenager on Korriban and the woman she was now was more an exercise in storytelling than an emotional match.

She quietly slipped into the secluded seat right before him, hugging her drink, and stayed silent for now, sipping slowly. Greetings and small talk seemed redundant. A silent moment of companionship in going through whatever lone suffering festered in them was possibly enough for an opening.

There was irony in this meeting, though she didn't feel like determining the exact defining lines of it.

Sylvain looked silently forward as he swirled his drink in his hand slowly, “You made it through then...”

She nodded slowly, and replied in a quiet, tired voice. "I prioritised survival. By joining the victors, I suppose. Not sure how much room for further manoeuvre it leaves me with. But we'll see soon enough. You?"

“Much harder to maneuver from a casket.” He replied with a nod.

“I too survive. Along with the Empire.”

"I wouldn't say 'the'. It might be a quite different one, even if some of its features survive." She mused lightly. "I can wonder if it turns out closer to my vision of it, or yours."

“Depends on what you think defines our visions. You’ve never understood mine...” He replied with a sip of his drink.

"If you say so. I don't feel like arguing tonight." She sighed and leaned back. "Dialogue and mutual understanding is hardly a Sith way though. We assert our ideas and then witness what comes out of them. In the end, I have little concern for Imperial citizens, their security, welfare or satisfaction. They are not a part of the Code beyond being means of power and victory." She took a long sip. "But this is hardly surprising given the differences in our respective backgrounds and paths we've walked ever since ours diverged."

“And I put little faith in codes or ideologies created by men that have produced nothing but brief success followed by epic failure and self-destruction in the past. Victory is meaningless in and of itself... some ‘victories’ cost too much...” He replied in a calm and non-argumentative manner. If anything his tone was more dejected than contrarian.

"How has putting greater faith in other things worked for you so far?" She asked, watching him with her own brand of sadness.

“I have little ‘faith’ at all... Pragmatism has kept me alive and with a greater mastery of the Force than any of our generation.” He replied with a bit of the last coals of fire in his heart.

"I know something about that." She chuckled darkly, closing her eyes. "Your pragmatic faithlessness. But if it has given you both power and perseverance, I suppose there's no point in challenging it any more. I have seen my own long-laid plans spectacularly unmade recently, so as far as efficacy yardstick goes, your have me at a disadvantage. Again, I guess."

Sylvain sighed slightly, "The Mandolorian matter truly is a shame... Despite my whole public showing at the court where we argued... You aren't wrong. Every venue of attack should be utilized... to lose that card in the deck was a moment of authoritarian stupidity... Or deliberate sabotage from on high. I'm sorry the system failed you..."

She nodded slowly. "There is little to salvage in this regard, only to take to heart the lesson of building one's power in ways that succumb less to system failures and authoritarian stupidity. What I am left with is anger, also at myself, but this can be a resource in its own right." She raised her gaze, looking in his face. "But I am not the only one here who's suffered loss and needs a way forward."

The tip of his tongue traced along the ridge of his upper bite within his mouth as he offered the slightest of nods in response.

She inhaled. On release, she spoke softer. "How are you?"

"That is a good question..." He replied while his eyes stared off at the wall on the opposite side of the bar.

"Hard to know. Killed part of myself to get through the day..."

"Can you carry on with what now remains in you?" She didn't chase his gaze, her own pierced into the table, but softened her voice even further, showing consideration rather than making any attempt at manipulation.

"The answer is not 'no'... I go on because I must. What drove us once may leave us the next moment... As long as you still breathe... you find ways to move on." He replied with an air of contemplation.

"Turn the pain into hate... or you bolster yourself up with memories of the good... The emptiness, though... that's the killer. That's what kills us all..."