As you walk through the swampy jungle to the South, you enter the ancient ruins of the Dark Temple. Abandoned and forgotten, the temple has slowly succumbed to the erosion of time. Before you lies the central chamber—the walls have crumbled, the ceiling caved in, and the jungle now flourishes within the once pristine halls.

Green light filters itself through the temple, mixing eerily with the dark, violet hue of Dromund Kaas' sky. Lightning flickers overhead, the raw energy of the Force clashing high above. The floor is overgrown with flora, large plants and grasses that have swallowed the old stone. Wild creatures roam freely, skittering away from your presence, but your heightened senses can feel the brush of vicious predators, hiding just out of sight.

The main hall is lined on both sides by towering statues, heads bowed in supplication. They stand in deference to the sculpture of a pureblooded Sith, which towers over the chamber with outstretched arms. The sculpture has been split diagonally down the middle, as if cleaved in two by a rusted blade, but you can still feel the majesty in the stone.

On either side of the main hall, remnants of branches to inaccessible parts of the temple remain. Ignoring those, your head tilts to take in what is left of the mezzanine—the balcony overlooking the chamber—still held aloft by the great pillars standing behind the statues. Several of the pillars have fallen, providing a pathway up to the mezzanine for those willing to take the risk for higher ground.

You can feel the danger of the temple. Sense the spirits of the Sith that still haunt the grounds, waiting for poor, misguided fools to walk blindly into their domain. Now, they have two souls to consume… that is, if you and your opponent don't destroy each other first.

Dromund Kaas had become a wreck in the aftermath of the Brotherhood's onslaught led by Taldryan and backed by Scholae Palatinae with the Jedi of Odan-Urr. The fetid swamps of the desecrated Sith world carried the stench of death and the ruins of ancient Imperial architecture painted a perfect picture of annihilation. Inevitably, the reach of the Grand Master and the thousands of puppets he controlled in his marionette play meant that such destruction on a grand scale was inevitable. It just so happened that the Brotherhood had come together to bare their razor-sharp fangs as one upon this once-grand world, a sparkling crown jewel in the diadem of imperium. Lord Ashen desired once more that these fangs be drawn, that the holdings of the Clans and Houses be checked for their security, a twisted vision of One Sith rebellion bathed in the flame of ancient relics rising in the madman's nightmares. Therefore, he sent his newest asset, for when the Lion roared, the Titan - his new Praetor - obeyed without question. Along for this particular ride was his own apprentice, Rollmaster of Odan-Urr Rhiann Baenre; it was exceedingly rare that they were separate for missions like this.

With Mirus clad in his familiar Pride armour and Rhiann in her simple black outfit, they cut two very opposite figures as they stood upon the steps of the once-mighty Dark Temple. Ravaged by time and warfare, what had once been the greatest structure on the planet was now little more than a ruin. The approach to the Temple was littered with fallen masonry and overgrown lichen, painting a very clear picture to the master and apprentice: this place was long-abandoned. If there was an artifact still here, it was buried deep inside the structure - perhaps under layers of rock.

"Remind me why we do this," Rhiann muttered as an aside to Mirus.

"The Grand Master wills it, Rhiann. We must do as we are instructed by our superiors."

A momentary roll of her eyes - as if to argue that Muz Ashen was not her superior - and she proceeded forward, the Titan of New Tython in tow. They mounted the steps and crossed the threshold, their footsteps now echoing in the halls of the Dark Temple. From here they could see the ruins of the roof, the fallen structural work - this place, truly, had become a relic of a time long past. The strength of the Dark Side here was unmistakable; once upon a time this altar of darkness had been the home to scores of Force spectres and spirits. Those spirits now had mostly faded from knowledge and waned in power, but the taint of Darkness here was as strong as ever.

A little too strong.

Mirus rested a hand on the hilt of the vibrosword sheathed upon his hip, crossing through the grand foyer and towards the entrances to ruined corridors. Unholy blue eyes cast a careful glance around, while the lithe, white-haired Sephi strode forward with purpose. She was on the hunt for an artifact, her eyes cast firmly towards the ground, while her companion looked about for something that was not perhaps there.

"You're paranoid, Mirus," Rhiann chided. "I don't sense anything here."

His silence was as stony as the statue before them. The ancient Sith warrior, bisected cleanly, was a beautiful piece of work from times long past. Or had been, anyway, were it not in pieces all around them.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he responded. "I sense something very wrong here. We aren't alone."

"I told you, I don't sense-"

Rhiann stopped mid-sentence, the words failing to come out as a sharp, dark presence suddenly filled their psyches. Mirus' paranoia had paid off because, despite previous objections, something was here. It was plain as day now; the shadows around them flickered with the occult sensation of movement.

Without hesitation, the Obelisk and Guardian drew their lightsabers, blades of teal and blue flickering to life in that same instant. They would not be caught off-guard by some unknown threat.

"Do you believe me now?" he asked, shifting into a low stance, saber above his head in classic Djem So style. Rhiann held her saber one-handed, her black pressed against the cold steel of Mirus' armoured form. Both of them were now hyper-aware, casting out their Force senses to try and find whatever it was that plagued them.

"Yes, yes, whatever," she said hurriedly and quietly, rather hating the fact that once again she had been proven wrong. "Let's just find this thing and get out."

The first footfalls in the distance began to echo in the Dark Temple. Mirus and Rhiann knew now that they were no longer alone.

It was hard to tell where the footsteps were coming from. The crumbled and scattered stone of the Dark Temple prevented the sounds from echoing properly; the noise wavering in and out, going from quiet to loud and back to quiet. With no real direction to go upon, Rhiann’s patience started wearing thin and took a few steps away from the man at her back. Her dark eyes scanned the area while Mirus kept to his stance; patiently waiting for their foes to make the first move.

“Whoever it is; they’re waiting for us to come, obviously.” Rhiann said, a tone of annoyance in her voice as she took some more steps toward the echoing sounds.

Moving further away from her master, the woman kept her lightsaber to her side as she put some distance between the two of them. Always on the alert, despite her attitude, she fell into a defensive stance the moment a flicker of red caught her eye. In the instant, she was flanked by two Sith who tried to take advantage of her position away from her company. Black eyes watched the two crimson blades come toward her, the Guardian easily dodging her opponents.

Mirus went to quickly approach the combat opportunity, him catching the sound of another lightsaber’s activation behind his back as a third Sith tried to take advantage of his distraction. It was short lived; the Grandmaster’s Praetor not even giving it a split second’s thought as the teal blade left a blur of light and also left a body in two pieces on the ground.

The other two Sith found themselves joining the other body on the floor not much later; succumbing to the quick and precise strikes Rhiann had been trained to perform all while keeping her ground. In an act of annoyance and of disappointment at how pathetic these Sithlings were, her foot switched off one of the red-bladed sabers and gave it a not so gentle kick toward the bodies at her feet.

“Think we made enough noise?” The Sephi asked, her saber remaining in her hand at her side.

The question warranted a quiet grunt from the man who moved to her side, his sharp blue eyes scanning both the bodies of the fallen Sith and their surrounding area. Despite all of the noise they had just made, the temple was eerily quiet. The woman’s own dark eyes met his gaze as they looked to each other; the same thing on both their minds.

It was a trap.

Rhiann broke the gaze first, looking upward to the rest of the temple. It certainly held up to its name, being a Dark Temple. The lack of light leaving the two of them with little to see without continuing to move through the stone walls. A quiet sigh left her nose, Mirus taking the initiative to get moving this time around. This was his task after all; Rhiann was just along for the ride. Not to mention… someone had to pilot the ship.

“Rhi.” The Obelisk said, trying to get her attention, “Get moving. There’s more where they came from.”

“You don’t say…” She quipped back, drawing out the last word with a bit of know-it-allism.

Picking up the pace, the two of them started making their way around the temple. The battle scarred columns and statues told stories about what took place here, the structure crumbling and plants starting to creep their way in through the cracks and crevices. Having never been here before, Rhiann caught herself looking around out of curiosity more than for the sake of their surroundings; Mirus having to pipe up and keep her on track and keep them going on what they were sent here for. The man did have a Grandmaster to impress, after all.

Access to the other areas of the temple was not as easy as it could have been, the more nimble of the two of them scaling columns and crumbled stairways to check on the area before the other followed at a slower pace. Not being as experienced with the way of the Force or the grandiose scale of battles like this, the Sephi spoke up to get a question in her mind answered.

“So. You said there was more. Where are they?” Rhi asked as she watched her master scale a broken column that allowed them access to the next level, extending a hand to get him up the top edge of the crumbling column.

There was a sudden and loud crack below Mirus’ feet, his weight causing the column to give out crash to the temple’s floor, filling their ears with deafening sound and the room below them filling with dust. Much to their relief, he had made it off the column before it gave way.

“Doesn’t matter.” He answered, making sure his lightsaber was still at his hip, “They know where we are.”

Rhiann could only let off another sigh as they moved around the highest level of the Dark Temple; a large beam of light catching her interest. Thankfully, it lead the master and apprentice back outside into the jungle area, the outside steps and decorative columns barely visible off to the right side. The two of them were too distracted until it was too late, a sudden and almost unbearable presence behind them; their eyes taking in the all too familiar colour of red.

“Told you.”

The first three corpses left behind by the duo were but the prelude to the hunter's nocturne. As four lightsabers hissed before them with the brilliant crimson glow so typical of the Sith, Mirus and Rhiann readied their own blades, the Titan sinking low and grounding himself while his student relaxed into her duelist's stance. Black robes tinged with blood-red striping heralded the arrival of One Sith, still piling in to take away one of the Lion's assets. Every Brotherhood minion slain at their hands was another kill to offer up to their Dark Lord, another body, another trophy of success. They, the hunters, would claim triumph here.

If they had not underestimated Mirus and Rhiann, perhaps they would have done a little more than make a claim. Azure and teal crashed out with a harmonious sonata, their wielders dancing perfectly through the comparatively clumsy blows of the acolytes before them - their uncanny ability to read the flow of battle certainly served them well. Mirus knew that this was mere chaff, a horde of underlings - willing sacrifices on the part of a greater Lord - to tire them out, the exhaust them in preparation for the final killing blow. This was a common strategy by those who did not value the life of their underlings. As such, some greater Sith - perhaps a Darth in his own right - had commanded that the trainees under his command fight the two Brotherhood lackeys. Perhaps they had not expected two trained Jedi. The dance was brief and furious. Mirus swept his blade wide to knock one out of balance before stepping into his second assailant with a hard block across his sternum. Rhiann was far more lithe and agile on her feet, dancing away from one slash before stepping into a high parry. The snarls of rage on the parts of the One Sith seemed more bestial than human - and dangerous.

"Come, darkspawn!" shouted the Titan of New Tython as he raised his lightsaber high, intending to be a distraction for his student. Keeping Rhiann alive and safe was his primary goal, at whatever cost to himself; she was a valuable part of his life and it was not her place to die here. Instead, he would willingly fight against four mere tyros in order to give her the chance to execute her usual stratagems.

The four acolytes looked to their challenger and charged as one, willingly going towards their opponent. Ganging up on one man would likely prove to be a viable way to take the strong one out.

In response, Mirus turned his sonata into an elegy.

The first to charge was the unfortunate recipient of a technique Mirus had channelled since his first days as a Protector combatting Socorra herself - channelling his raw physical strength into an invisible blow, Mirus attacked with all the force of a power hammer, the first acolyte withering as his ribcage cracked under the sheer power of the Dathomiri's strike. This caused the other three to hesitate, seeing a companion dropped so quickly. This hesitation was the death of the next, where Mirus drove his lightsaber straight up through his foe's neck with a straight-line thrust and cut down through his body, almost bisecting him. The third and fourth engaged him simultaneously, slicing from two different angles - met only with a step back and a parry against one lightsaber.

This distraction was more than plenty for Rhiann to sweep in and bury her lightsaber between the shoulder blades of the third Sith apprentice, noticed at the last second by the fourth who disengaged quickly and held his saber before him in the most common of Shii-cho opening stances, tip of his weapon pointed at throat-height to protect himself most effectively. Fear drove him to the defensive.

"So. Who sent you?" called the Praetor as his bright blue eyes pierced into his enemy's blackened soul.

"Lord Varat will reward those who claim your head and the artifact, Jedi," hissing with a deep, gravelly voice. "I'm going to be the one to bring your broken, bloody corpses to him. I will be exalted!"

"Exalted my ass," shot the Sephi woman, faking a lunge forward with her shoulder to draw out the Sith's guard, permitting Mirus to seize the moment of weakness - and cleaving him apart with a blow so powerful that, momentarily fueled by the strength of the Force, the Titan crushed through his defences. Once that was done, the master and apprentice looked to each other, finally relaxed - once more knowing that there were going to be problems.

"So, a Lord Varat wants our heads," Mirus mused, lowering his lightsaber and raising his free hand to his chin. With a contemplative scratch, he stepped over the four corpses, offering one of them a gentle prod with his plated boot. "I daresay he'll make his appearance soon. He won't like that we've just murdered seven of his trainees."

Rhiann gave Mirus' comment a moment's thought. "That worries me. He's sent a whole load of trainees at us. What happens when he sends something stronger?" questioned the Jedi Knight. "He's got to have something up his sleeve. Besides, at least we know there's an artifact here. Your boss was right. What do we do about that?"

"We'd best find it quickly before Varat does."

Together, the two wandered back down to the lower levels, continuing their search for this lost artifact. Their climb down broken columns was slow going, but their footing was as sure as their resolve. The top level had only held emptiness and gloom - perhaps, in the depths of the Dark Temple, the truth could be found.

A frown crossed over the Sephi’s face as the two of them returned to the temple’s lower level staircase was located. She hadn’t known much about the Dark Temple, but thankfully the person with her was educated on the planet, the most important of locations… and that the staircase down to where they needed to go was in fact blocked by part of the temple crumbling in. Rhiann, being someone who lived without the Force until the last year, wouldn’t think that this could be easily remedied. She instead thought this was to be impossible and they had to find another way, letting her thoughts be readable by the annoyed groan coming from her mouth.

“You still have a lot to learn.” Mirus said, harnessing the Force to assist in removing enough rubble to get the point across, “Or at least remember.”

Her silence was enough to show that she was embarrassed about this hiccup in her memory, cursing under her breath as she concentrated and willed the Force to open up a small but stable passageway through the rubble at the stairs; Rhiann peeking into the space.

“Stay here. I’ll go.” The Sephi stated, not giving the Dathomiri a choice in the matter, “Just watch for more of those Sith to pop up. They really, really like you.”

There was a quiet snicker from her mouth as she hopped into the passageway and into the darkness, glancing back for a split second. Her deep, black eyes would catch her master’s eerie, sharp blue eyes before he would turn away, leaving her to do her work. With him no longer looking, the same pair of black eyes cast to the ground as a frazzled and worried frown twisted her lips… worried for what was going to happen next. She found herself beside Mirus for almost every mission, and even though she was able to hand something like this on her own, she had always felt better when he was there making sure she or the both of them got out with little injury or threat to their lives. It didn’t feel right going down here alone, but she knew this was in their best interests.

Besides. Someone had to greet the other Sithlings if there were still more around.

Heading down the stairs, the woman would pull up the hood of her cloak over her hair and part of her face, taking a hold of the curved lightsaber hilt and the pale blue blade lit up the surrounding area; the familiar humming of the blade comforting as she continued further and further down into the Dark Temple.

Keeping an eye on her surroundings, Rhiann continued down with a steady rhythm of steps; her footing suddenly faltering as the flickering light of a lit torch came into their view. It seems the Sith had made base much further into the temple than originally thought.

This cemented the fact that something was hiding down here.

With her cloak close to her body and the lightsaber’s blade kept back and away from herself to keep hidden and to minimize noise, Rhiann peeked into the room to only find one person. She shuddered upon feeling the power coming from his being, a frown tugging at the corners of her lips as she came to one conclusion.

This had to be Varat.

It was then that she noticed something gleaming in his hand. It wasn’t like an artifact she had seen before; the three large, rough cut chunks of deep purple crystal wrapped with a silver wire and hanging on an ornate chain. The reveal of the artifact left Rhiann open though, it skipping her mind to suppress the Force coming from her being. The artifact was suddenly put back into the decorated and custom box from which it came, a red blade suddenly coming to life as the Sith Lord launched himself at Rhiann’s area—the Sephi barely able to catch his blade with hers.

Blue and red blades clashed, the Sith’s physical prowess much more than the Jedi’s. Rhiann found her arms starting to give out from the sheer power and overwhelming Force he was pressing upon her, moving her body and lightsaber away from the man to dash back up to the main level of the temple. Rhiann’s training and endurance allowed her to keep ahead of her enemy, disengaging her lightsaber and clipping it back to her belt to free her hands to move quickly through the opening she first went through. Upon hearing the frantic footsteps coming up the stairs, Mirus set himself into a defensive stance after Rhiann popped out of the opening, his lightsaber kept up in preparation for it to meet another.

What came next was a clash of crimson and teal blades; a sign of the battle to come.

Mirus got an immediate glimpse of his black-robed foe; dressed in the typical zeyd-cloth trappings of a powerful Dark Lord, the Titan knew that this enemy was someone with true power. He was not physically imposing in any way and looked of average build, but under the hood the hints of a Nikto's distinctive face-spikes poked out under the shadows. In those burning, Sith-tainted eyes, Mirus could see the look of a predator. A man who took sick, twisted pleasure in taking apart the strong. He'd seen that look before, on so many who chose to challenge him. This, however, felt different.

Their first clash disengaged and they stepped back, assuming ready stances. His own high guard was poised, ready to strike, but that of his opponent was different. Fluid. Almost like an open declaration that there would be a brutal fight, on his terms; it was a deceptive guard with the blade high, then pointed down towards his groin.

"What's the matter, little worm?" taunted Lord Varat, opening his guard for just a moment with his hands wide. "Afraid?"

No response. Mirus was just too stoic for his own good to make a witty reply. Instead, he controlled his breath, knowing that his fighting this powerful opponent would draw attention away from Rhiann. Then, in the next moment, he took a step in and slashed downwards, hoping to cleave his foe in twain in the first moment. That, however, was met with a very simple block, the Sith Lord moving in to block, then follow up with a telekinetic strike to Mirus' stomach. It wasn't powerful, but it was enough to catch the Praetor off-guard for just a moment.

The dance began. Mirus' sheer force was countered with the unbridled technical skill of a cruel, intelligent mastermind, the serpentine strikes of a man used to wielding a lightsaber as a surgical tool for confounding his opponent an unmatched technical prowess. This was not Makashi - Makashi he knew. No, this was something else entirely. Relaxed, willowy, Varat moved quickly and efficiently,engaging every saber-lock Mirus wished to endure and pivoting his blade - forcing the Obelisk away with a telekinetic hammer to a knee, or elbow, to prove a point. Every strike Mirus took, coupled with each step forward, was met with an understated defense. It looked pained - but it was clear. This foe was toying with him - it was clear in the way he moved and the fact that he almost looked lazy in his combat.

In that moment, he knew, the warrior's honesty kicking in yet again: He was going to lose.

This was not an outcome he would accept. This was not something that he was going to permit. He had died once to an agent of the One Sith - he would not do this a second time. He would not die here. He would not lose to this little man.

Mirus reached deep within himself and conjured the most primal beast within, the raw animal that had been raised a slave's son on Dathomir. The creature that had been taught to look a man in the eyes and carve his heart out then devour it. The Force flowed instantly through his veins in that moment, a berserker's battle-cry eclipsing his lips as he conjured every moment of power. The rampage would begin, an unstoppable tempest of attacks of such unthinkable strength - and then he reached even deeper, pulling out every last stop to draw on the strength of his arms. One blow would be enough to push straight through his enemy's guard and cut him, even if he blocked directly - and so dropped the proverbial hammer, his lightsaber coming from below in order to bisect the foe before him.

To this, Varat parried the first incoming blow with a wide swing saber and a twirl off to the side, offering Mirus a sadistic smirk. "I don't think so."

A wave of the Nikto's gloved hand and Mirus felt, in that immediate instant, the primal adrenaline that he had conjured flowing away. Here before him was a master of cutting one's connection to the Force and it showed. Instantly, the Titan felt everything he had slip away as he helplessly tried to find a way to grasp onto the power that was so innately his. His only weapon against Lord Varat had just been stripped away. Those unholy blue eyes opened wide with shock at the further realisation: there was no survival now.

Varat chose to respond by taking one hand off his lightsaber and unleashing a blast of electricity at Mirus. It was no mere shock; this was the unbridled fury of the Dark Side in raw form. As Varat held this strike, Mirus could feel even his own resilience being assaulted, the heavyset warrior dropping to one knee as he struggled to resist one of the most powerful attacks in the Dark arsenal. His mind elsewhere, The lord struck one last time - an invisible hand striking the Dathomiri back into the wall, swatting him away like a measly fly. Mirus' teal blade went flying out of his hands, discarded not by choice.

The dark master advanced, saber raised high. This fight was over, and Mirus had lost. It would take but one more moment to destroy the Titan of New Tython.

There was just one thing that Lord Varat had failed to take into account. For all his malice and showboating, he had willed himself to crush the Dathomiri... and forgotten about Rhiann. Mirus had succeeded in that one task. When two knives buried themselves into Lord Varat's shoulder blades at the hands of the shadowy Sephi, he screamed profoundly, dropping his own lightsaber in the shock of the moment. Her satisfied smirk was enough, that she had interrupted her master's second death.

Rhiann had given Mirus a simple reprieve from death - and an opportunity. It was now or never. In pain, shocked and burned by the flash-frying, Mirus had only one chance to end this. He would finish this fight whether it killed him, willing the pain to go away in the one moment his apprentice had afforded him.

He reached his hand out, conjuring the Force, and his apprentice's lightsaber with it. All other things were gone. Nothing else mattered, for there was but a crystalline moment in time to finish this fight. The pain was nothing. His apprentice was meaningless. Ending Lord Varat here and now was the only thing left. As the familiar pressure of cold steel met his palm, he drew a vicious line across Varat's body, thumbing the activation stud of his student's weapon.

In a single moment the dazzling azure lightsaber bisected the One Sith and Lord Varat met his end.

A slow exhale of relief left Mirus' lips, for the danger had passed. He would live another day.

Mirus would get no greeting, no congratulations; not even any words he would probably want to hear soon after the Sith Lord was dead. Instead, he’d end up with an ornate looking box in his face, Rhiann holding it out to him using both of her hands. With how things went last time on New Tython with a Sith artifact, Rhiann didn’t want to risk looking at it quite yet.

“Here is the artifact.” The Sephi said in a flat voice. Her face was skewed into a smirk though, obviously having fun with pretending nothing went wrong with it all.

“... I’m just fine, thanks for asking.” The Titan muttered, taking the box and sitting himself down on the temple’s floor.

While the man busied himself with that, Rhiann went about getting her lightsaber back at her side. She looked it over before clipping it back to her hip, looking over to her master as his face twisted into an odd look.

Heading back over, the Sephi crouched down next to him right as he was opening the hinge-lidded box, pulling out what looked to indeed be a Sith artifact. It wasn’t as crude or… unique as some others known through history, but instead only made of rough cut purple stones held together with wire, beading and a highly decorated neck strap.

“What kind of artifact is -that-.” Rhiann questioned, though it sounded more like a demand for explanation.

“It’s an artifact. That’s all that matters.” Mirus answered, ready to put it back away when he noticed Rhiann’s eyes were fixated on the crystals and how they sparkled when the few light beams filtering into the temple hit them. Her head moved to continue looking at it even as he put it back into the box and shut the lid.

He could see the sparkle in her eyes diminish as the artifact went out of sight. Either his apprentice was getting a taste for artifacts, or she loved everything shiny. It was probably the latter. As if to test it out and give her a bit of payback for the playful lack of concern earlier, Mirus cracked the box open just barely, then shut it again. Rhiann’s eyes followed-- all her attention focused on the purple crystals. Mirus would close and open and close the box numerous times, it becoming clear now.

“Rhi.” He said while looking right at her to make sure she heard it the first time, “Do you want me to make a copy for you?”

At first Rhiann was confused. She had no clue Mirus could even do something like that; even as Praetor to the Herald. She knew that he would slave over his own lightsabers, including the new one he had made after she got his destroyed, but had no clue that he could do artifacts. If it was in fact going to be a replica even in power.

“Ye...s?” She said, trying to be careful about seeming too eager, “I mean, yes. Of course.”

Tucking the box under one arm, Mirus tried to get himself up off the ground, only to find out during some of the tumbling with the Sith that his right leg had broken below the knee. Rhiann was finished with teasing him and helped him up, shooting the man a worried look. While she had done it before, the emotion seemed to be at its strongest today.

“I think I owe you dinner.” the man said, putting an arm around Rhiann’s back to get his weight off his bad leg.

Rhiann found it a bit difficult to carry his weight, especially since she was a few inches taller, but she tried. “I save your life and all I get is dinner?”

As the two of them started to hobble back toward the ship that carried them to the planet, Rhi’s dark eyes would occasionally glance over to her master and the box he was carrying. Both of these things caught her attention, their eyes meeting as those unholy glowing eyes looked up at her’s.

“And how many times have I saved your life?” His unamused voice would ask in return; the question legitimate. No one was keeping count, but he had certainly saved her numerous times over. Her saving him this time around was just good timing.

Not liking that she was wrong, Rhiann’s words turned into a grumble. This was always one way to tell that he was right. This time around, the Obelisk celebrated his victory with a short laugh. Hearing him enjoying the win just got the Guardian riled up, tripping him up and causing him to hop on one foot until she stabilized him once more.

“Do you want more than dinner?” Mirus asked, getting the conversation back on track as their slow walk back to the ship continued.

There was a long pause from Rhiann, “How did this go again…” She muttered to herself before talking at normal volume, “Something… about dessert.”

One of the thick eyebrows on the man’s brow lifted in question, “What. Cake? Ice cream? Chocolate mousse?”

‘You are clueless.’ Rhi thought to herself in the safety of her own mind.

Clearing her throat, she tried to answer, the subject at hand causing her to lose her train of thought. Despite being married before, this was all new to her. Relationships. Or trying to pursue them anyway. There was no way he’d end up going for this… would he?

“No, no, no...” She muttered, sighing, “How about… breakfast too.”

It wasn’t often that Rhiann showed any emotion outside of her usual self, this throwing Mirus off. How suspicious. Though, this was something he wasn’t familiar with hearing. Certainly they could get together for breakfast too if she had wanted. That is what she wanted, right?

The only response she got was a look for her to further explain her confusing self.

“It is something Humans say when they really want to spend the night with someone intimately. You are a Human. Should you not know that?” Rhiann explained, not looking at the man next to her as she said this and as she waited for his answer.

“Is that what you want?” Mirus asked, his tone serious.

“Ah.. er…” The woman muttered, a rare bout of shyness creeping into her usual attitude.

“Women are so confusing.” He said with a sigh and the shake of his head. Unlucky for him, this warranted a swift kick to his broken leg, Mirus not expecting it. He sharply inhaled through clenched teeth, Rhiann snubbing him for the remainder of their walk to the ship.

If only he wasn't so hopelessly backwards-tribal.