Slade could feel her reservations about him, and as he silently waited, his patience and idle conversation were not returned. She knew better. Brick by brick with each second passing, her guard had been built against him. And if it hadn't have been so easily felt, he would have assumed she were merely checking him out as well. But no - she had gotten her defense primed against him, already her view of him reserved.
Good.
His lips imperceptibly slid a smile at their corner, invisible to the eye unless up close, before it had vanished completely in a blink. He appreciated her not being so quick to trust him. Not every creature that smiled was friendly. And he was certainly included, to a degree. Now, however, his hunt was over. He had located her, and within the most monumental room between them as a pair of Tormentous' underlings, they stood and spoke to one another.
Threatened one another, whether it be with words, or energy, alone. They were both creatures looking for the other's throat, and whether it would be now they would strike that vital spot, or later down the line, one of them would not be able to continue on. Curiosity killed the Nexu, yes...
"
But satisfaction gave her a redo.", he solemnly finished, the nursery rhyme tickling an old bone in him. He wasn't even remotely threatened by the Apprentice, but he remained that much more aware of her, more keen on being alert on her movements and emotions. To read anything sudden that she might inflict. She seemed nice, but every feline had a mean streak.
Turning to the nearest pillar, he almost appreciated her actually taking him up on his offer. It gave him more leverage to hand her knowledge which, her, as a fellow Sith, and
surely someone much more superior to him for now, had right to know.
-----------------Begin Psychometry APP------------------------
He reached out to the pillar nearest the stone, allowing his exhale to flood the room with his influence, and immediately it was grabbed by the sensations of the Dark Side's presence already thickly congealed within the room. The Hunter held his exhale, completely unable to bring that Force back in, as something had held him hostage in this ancient room. Luckily he had the dexterity to not be consumed by it, reinforcing his resilience against the forever threat of Tormentous sadistic and addictive contamination within this domain. But it was just that, his Sense had allowed him to feel. He knew Tormentous' aura well; nearly better than his own. However, his Senses drilled into him, a new aura intermingled with this place. It was one he had only just started to associate with. Slade pried further, his mental nares pushing harder to take in those scents, and figure the trailings where they began, and where they ended. He tilted his head back, tanned knuckles now pale as his grip tightened on the stone pillar just to the right of him. Every step forward was a step gained, and right now he fought against the gravity of time itself to learn what had happened here, the very beginning, the true start of his rise, and his fall.
The sandstone shrieked as though it were being pulled through hellfires, and it filled his head with an almost agonizing withdrawal. He wanted to retreat from the severity of this place, a floor where two giants had been, his Sire, and someone else. It was that scent, his Senses told him, that he had known just recently, and through the murk he used his grit to wade through. Many days and many nights had been here, and so much information assaulted Slade as he swam through it all, as he was dragged through it all. The Hunter was baffled with how many scents had come and gone in this room, how many audiences, hordes, souls had been here, and either left, or became spirits who added to the noise of the Dark Side. No, he warned himself. These were not the times he sought. Varied vectors aimed to pull him from what his mind sought, what his tracking had been seeking, and every time he discriminated against them all. They were not the day, the time....no-
The Force pushed so densely on his chest as he slowed his mental trajectory. There was effort in the need to slow his breathing, to keep calm and face these days, times, years that happened in this very same room. And soon enough, after he had flashed through the noise and the screams of the slain, or the voices of anger and disbelief, the weapings of culled families or applauds of slaves or whispers of zealots, or even the cleaners and massassi who came to and fro within this room and across this floor, a day in particular had been what filled the quote niche where that first step had been taken. His Control held the tendrils tight while his focus zoned in on the immediate area. Shapes of darkness moved through him, past him, to the first steps of the throne before him, hovering there as the blare of some trumpet-like instrument careened around him in celebration, in welcome. It was off key for now, but with every other push against the Force rubber band that wanted to thrust him back into the present. But no, his teeth clenched forth. He remained, and he listened, and the fanfare began to steady into something regal until it abruptly faded away. The shadows began to mold as well, to take forth shapes, and before his eyes he willed them into having faces. Both were before him, yet one, he felt, sat upon that Throne of Skulls. He knew the aura radiating from that Throne could have lied, but no. His heart told him Tormentous sat upon that throne that day, and the Force confirmed it in his visual. He who stood before him, however... the familiar and fresh aura, his eyes squinted-
snow white hair drifted from it, a glint of silver armor scarred with corruption and inken stains of Dark Side prowess and char from some repeated hot discharge. A tilted and slender head with a clear cloak made for noble lineage, pale nape showing as briefly under that hair, and multiple sheathes decorated the body for multiple weapons, small hilts, and with a surprised realization sabers. No doubt as Slade particularly invested the senses across this individual, it was confirmed to be Silas who stood before Tormentous, this day. And Tormentous had only just sat, having moved from the very pillar that Slade had placed his hand on. Glancing up, Slade had come to see it was no mere pillar - it was his own statue within the Throne room. Tormentous had laid his hand here, heart and mind heavy, as the Force had told him what was becoming of his Empire.
Surely that was not it?? Slade grunted, his need for oxygen fizzing the corners of the scene before him in dazzlies of static and blackness. But he needed to see this out. It was imperative. He needed to know. Fingers if his mental dexterity strained that much harder, and his chest fully felt weighed by Moraband, itself. His mead was pounding as more sounds beckoned him to fight for more of this day, more of this scene, and with his chest tightly bound, he stayed and listened. The majority of the conversation was drowned out by so much noise static that would close so much faster and faster as his Control thinned on the situation. His ears strained, desperate need bypassing his body's urges to breathe. Yet words seemed so much clearer when he ignored his need to survive- "-Both were undone as soon as their purpose came to pass. I...I was needed to strike fear into all those that would hear our name. Though perhaps my time has come, perhaps the Sith are to be ushered into a new era. Not one where power or strength is needed -" the Hunter count no longer see Silas, as the fizz and crackle had consumed his visual completely. Slade did not have the strength to get him back, and his knees began to buckle. The words were vibrations that now struck cords in his mind fully, and Tormentous remained his final ounce of strength. "-so much as cunning and deceit. Blood, he would be a prime candidate for this type of future." and the Xandir collapsed. His lungs forced a painful inhale into his chest as he hit the floor, and immediately with it, his influence returned back to him. The weight of the world, no, the weight of the history that happened here, was now off his chest, and he almost felt as though he had completely traveled through time itself. His Senses tingled, jittery, as though they had just fallen asleep and the blood fought with confused neurons to retrieve feeling again. His Control, so stressed and stretched far beyond what he had considered capable of at that point in time, felt weak, and should he had even attempted to regain it then, it would have no effect, turning and galloping just out of reach as an untamed gualara.
-End Psychometry APP- 1222/300 WC -
Slade had laid there, taking deep and hurtful breaths as he stared up from the base of his own statue within this room. He had gotten a realization that he couldn't decide whether to share or keep as his own secret. Kita would be silly to not cut him down now, and be rid of him within her Master's order, as he was weak at this moment. He lay there, not even with the muscle strength to move a single pinky, let alone defend himself. But would her thirst for knowledge overrule her base drive for recognition within this bloody court?
He only needed a moment more before he could speak...
What truly was she going to undertake?
