Young Writers Society

"Quite the home you've made for yourself." He could feel the troopers looking at him from under their helmets. He was truly a sight to behold with his horns, tattoos, and bright green eyes. His clothes were filthy and he bore a few scrapes and bruises from his encounter with the inquisitors. Perhaps he would have time to make himself a little more presentable later. He would rest, and then begin to test the boundaries to see what all he could explore without breaking his cover.

"This home has been passed down through my family for generations," Tarkin informed him. "It marks the site of one of the first major civilized settlements here." He stated it as simple fact, but in his mind he carried a fair amount of pride for his ancestral home.

"So you grew up here." Now that was curious information. One could tell so much about a person by their homeworld. It may even lead to clues concerning their current objective.

"I'm assuming your son grew up here as well?"

"He did." Technically, anyway. There was a compound further out, near the Carrion, where he and Garoche had both spent most of their childhoods. Tarkin paused and turned to Sirejj. "I suppose you must be hungry. Your people are carnivores, are they not? Dinner can be prepared quickly."

"Interesting." He'd have to find out more about this. It may prove useful information. It would be helpful to know everything about his son if he was to discover what really happened to him. "Yes, I would appreciate provisions. It has been quite a long day after all."

Tarkin dipped his head and a servant who had been shadowing them hurried away. "I'll see you to your room. We'll both clean ourselves up, then I'll escort you down to the dining hall." He spotted a servant in different livery patterns than his own, and he stopped her. "You're one of Gideon's?"

"Yes, sir," the woman said, startled. "We weren't expecting you--"

"Are Rivoche and Geeta with him?"

"Not this time, sir."

"Ask him if he could be persuaded to join us for dinner at seven." The woman bobbed a curtsey and hurried off.

Sirejj simply nodded. He was still in observation mode, taking in everything around him. Feeling the very supports that held the building up. Formal gatherings were generally not to his liking, but this family had many secrets of which he intended to learn.

Tarkin headed up a flight of stairs. "Do you have any questions in the meantime?" Any that he could answer, at least. Damn, he was going to have to call Thalassa again.

"Many, but they will be answered in time. It will be helpful if at some point you tell me a little more about your son. Show me places he frequented, I must get to know him better." He glanced back at Tarkin. "It may reveal some things about him not known before." Tarkin was right about the circumstances surrounding his son's death being odd, but who's fault that was was yet to be revealed. That left Sirejj no choice but to chase ghosts.

It was times like these he envied the Sisters who had been allowed to train in the dark magicks, he had been forced to scavenge much of his knowledge. Some of the most ancient and powerful of the Dathomiri claimed to be able to speak to those long passed, even those who had not been strong in the force. He did not yet possess this power.

"I'll do what I can with my brother around," Tarkin replied. The truth was, Thalassa knew Garoche's movements better than he did. His work kept him away from the family and often off Eriadu, and when he did interact with his son it was usually on the Carrion, starving and killing their way through the jungle. Beyond that, he kept the boy at arm's length. It was Thalassa's job to coddle him; Tarkin couldn't afford to get attached, even with the parameters she had set for their ventures into the Carrion.

They turned up another flight of stairs into a quiet wing, and Tarkin strode to the end of the hallway to a door. "You'll be housed here," he told him. "For the time being."

"Many thanks, Governor." He nodded his head slightly. "We will discover more in the coming days." He wanted to see what was outside the limits of the city. Perhaps their search for answers would give him a chance to see the jungles of Eriadu.

"Hopefully so." Tarkin went a few paces down the hall to another door. "One more thing--do you take your meat raw or cooked?"

"Raw will do fine." He was hungry, but he was equally curious about the conversation he would here from the two brothers.

"Excellent." Tarkin gave a nod, then disappeared into his bedroom.

Most bedrooms in this mansion were quite lavish, but the interior of this one was fairly sparse. A veermok-hide chair was beside the bed, and a chest at the bed's foot. There was an adjoining bathroom, equally Spartan. Thalassa had added some blue drapes and a vanity table when they married, and though they rarely shared a bed anymore he hadn't bothered to get rid of her additions.

Tarkin shrugged off his vest and kicked off his boots, then headed for the bathroom to take a shower.

Not too long later, after cleaning up and procuring a change of clothes from a servant, Sirejj was summoned to dinner. He stepped outside of his room, his staff secured to his back yet again. He had dusted off his boots and done his best to remove all of the tiny Atoan crystals, but a few still appeared when the light struck them just right.