Dec 16, 2019 5:38 AM
Ekkreth rescues Deskyl
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"That would be helpful, thank you."

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"Very well, my lord."

He leads the way to an office, not overly showy but still opulent enough to be appropriate to a Sith of his standing, and pulls up the file on a screen on the desk. He offers her the screen and controls, and goes to rifle through a filing cabinet along the side of the room while she confirms that the classification is genuine (it is).

"And here's Deskyl's lightsaber notes," he says when she looks up, offering a box of datacards. "I'm sorry I can't be of more help than this."

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"These might be a little hard to decipher without her," she muses.

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"We don't expect her to recover, but I can inform you if she does, my lord."

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"I think that the odds that remaining in her current situation will result in improvement are negligible"

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He's momentarily surprised. "I'll have her prepared to travel, then. Her quarters are right this way-"

A minute's walk brings them to a stereotypically Sithy bedroom, all red cloth and black wood; she'll recognize the sunset bas-relief over the bed as Deskyl's own work, photographed for her portfolio but much more impressive in person. Deskyl herself is curled up in the bed, looking lost; the droid sitting with her puts down the hairbrush she was using on her hair and stands to acknowledge them. "Pack up Deskyl's things; she'll be leaving with the Darth," Pritruth orders, and the droid bows and goes to the communicator on the wall to request that some boxes be brought in.

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Ekkreth takes a moment to discreetly admire the relief; it's got nothing on sunsets back on Tatooine but it's still beautiful in itself.

She very much hopes she isn't tipping more of her hand than she means to.

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The droid begins taking books off the bookshelf - it's quite a full bookshelf - and piling them in short stacks on the bed; Pritruth interrupts her almost immediately. "Don't bother with those; start with her wardrobe."

"Yes, sir," she says, and goes to do that.

(Deskyl seems to have noticed them, finally, and is staring confusedly at Darth Magnus, as if the woman is a logic puzzle written mostly in a foreign language.)

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She refrains from objecting. She really doesn't need to display more compassion right now and probably the books are replaceable.

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The boxes come; the droid and her two compatriots who arrived with them begin packing in earnest.

"Is there anything else you'd like to see while you're here, Lord?"

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"I don't believe so."

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"Very well." He bows. "I'll be in my office if you want me for anything."

He goes. The droids keep working, efficiently packing everything into boxes, which other droids come to take away; when they're done with the clothing, one resumes packing books while the other two work in the other rooms of the suite.

Deskyl gives up on her puzzle and curls up a little tighter under her blanket.

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Ekkreth firmly reminds herself not to do anything that will force her to choose between fleeing the Empire and slaughtering everyone here.

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Once the books are done, the droid goes to where camouflaged panels in the wall across from the bed can be shifted to reveal artwork and begins dismantling that display, packing the sunset landscapes carefully.

The job is done not long after that, and the droid makes a final walk-through of the suite to make sure nothing has been missed. "We're ready, Ma'am."

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"Thank you," she says to the droid, because with no Sith with verbal processing actually in the room that's no risk at all, "the ship is this way."

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"Yes, Ma'am."

She coaxes Deskyl out of bed - she responds to gestures, at least - and takes her hand to lead her behind the Darth.

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The ship is not enormous but there is room for all of the boxes and a spare cabin for Deskyl.

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Deskyl seems a little hesitant to let the droid guide her back to bed, but complies without any actual complaint, and then the droid settles herself in the chair beside her.

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Ekkreth leaves them be.

Once they're off-planet and out of range of any other Sith she sighs and relaxes her shielding and lets her Force signature go back to normal instead of "Yep, I Sure Am A Darth."

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...huh.

(She doesn't do anything about it; this is all terribly disorienting and she's well aware that if she tries to do anything she'll quickly find that she can't. But: huh.)

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Eventually they reach their destination. Darth Magnus has a carefully cultivated reputation for preferring her living quarters devoid of servants (slaves in all but name, in the Empire; she would do without even if it were far more suspicious than it is) so there is no one else around to set up an unused room into a bedroom, but it's relatively straightforward to get the furniture out of boxes and assembled when one is telekinetic.

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The droid once again has to coax and guide her, when Ekkreth arrives to show them to their new quarters, but it seems like Deskyl is very slightly more alert already.

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That's good, at least.

"--What are you called?" she asks the droid, when it occurs to her that she doesn't know.

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"DZ twelve Q, Ma'am."

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Nod. "Is there any particular care she requires?"

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