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I know how you want me
a young palpatine finds a different sith master - somewhat literally
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It takes her years, it feels like. Years ever since that first whisper, the first little hint in the margins of another record - years since Palpatine's keen instincts, the ones that make her teachers love her with an exasperated fondness even though she never just obeys 

Palpatine is a curious girl on the cusp of becoming a curious young woman. A frustrated girl, chaffing against the chains her father sets on her - one who knows she has potential smothered by those around her, though she can't quite name it -

A lifetime as a delinquent with daddy's money, a long habit of cultivating bonds and debts like a magpie squirreling away golden chains - it comes in handy when she gets enough of a clue that the itch rises under her skin. 

She cashes in a lot of favors. It isn't easy to move under her own power, won't be for years yet until she's twenty one and free of her father's yoke, but there's gaps in every security and she's able to play nice long enough to get on a Youth Legislature field trip -

 

And from there, stealing a ship is child's play. Flying alone through hyperspace settles something in her, an itch under her skin, and this ship's specs say it needs two pilots but she's very scornful of the pilot who needs a helping hand to fly this thing - she always knows exactly what switch to flip, how to lean, when to move.

(One of the few times she's at peace, really. Such a pity her peace is illegal.)

 

Her heart's fluttering in her chest a bit as she lands on a grassy plain outside the ruins, more as she carefully enters - 

This isn't a temple, she realizes. 

It's better. 

 

It's a storage facility.

 

Palpatine explores rather like a kid unleashed into a toy store she's been told might have booby traps but that anything she can carry out is hers to keep. 

(She's tempted not to go home. Keeping all this away from her father would be hard, and she's just found something she likes so much more than daddy's money. An entire library of things.)

 

She does, reluctantly, force herself to actually look around before trying to figure out removing any specific items. Is there a main control room anywhere - ?

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The facility seems to be modular. Each room has its own circuits for lights, doors, traps. The technology is old, nearly impossible to recognize but for the fundamental behavior of electrons. Whatever civilization built this left only the barest trace on the lineage of development in the Republic. The walls are periodically inscribed with strange sigils that give her a shiver to stare at for too long, but the doorways are labeled in plain Aurebesh- Aurek wing ahead, turn left to Cresh, Esk section second right.

Nothing so helpful as 'Master switch this way, push this button to turn on holodirectory'. No beating heart to uncover. Though, come to think...

Towards a certain section, she feels something like a pulse. A subsonic rhythm of breath that washes across her without physically affecting her, almost a trick of the mind. And comparing the size of the room to the length of the hallway-

Space is missing. There's a hidden room behind one of these walls.

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Has her life day come early?

This is the best puzzle, and Palpatine takes detailed notes on the map she's making, kicks herself about not bringing more bags at first and then not more supplies to camp out here - 

And there's a hidden room. 

Palpatine sets out with a mixture of calm methodology and following her instincts to get into it.

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Her instinct is that it's something to do with those sigils. They're all over the facility, but a close examination (pushing past the strange shiver) will reveal that the ones in the corner of interest are of slightly different style than the rest, and spaced oddly.

(It's a boundary, a border, a wall. To pass the wall you must pass the gate to pass the gate you must find the gate to find the gate you acknowledge the extent of the wall. To acknowledge is to know is to define is to exclude, by excluding invert and become inclusion. Or the possibility thereof. Worth is proven, not given. Worth is the combination of power and knowledge, demonstrated. A sacrifice is required.)

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- They're spaced oddly because one's missing.

She doesn't know this writing system (yet), but she is clever and good at patterns and had that same phase where she got really obsessed with codebreaking and decoding ancient lost writings that most Naboo girls do. 

She circuits the facility a few more times to confirm her hunch, to fix in her mind what exactly she should do - 

And then she cuts her finger and draws the missing sigil in her own blood. 

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It glows with unearthly light, the power sucking through like a rushing wind-

(The deep-felt pulse, a constant badum-badum in the back of her mind this whole time ticks up in tempo.)

And there is the doorway, the same as all the rest. Written above in plain letters, The Sleeper.

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Her heartrate matches the pulse in her mind. 

And she opens the door. 

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Banks of computers, a pedestal with a length of gleaming metal cylinder atop, a generator, data readouts, medical equipment, the most elaborate bacta tank she's ever seen-

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And in the tank, a woman opening her eyes.

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Oh wow she's pretty. 

Palpatine steps just inside the doorway, watching with fascination. 

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A flick of her wrist, and the fluid in the tank begins draining. The glass walls retract and she steps out with a motion that is either a flourish or a well-disguised stumble.

(To say this was not how she expected to wake... would not be the entire truth. She was not expecting to wake at all. This girl feels untrained, but she opened the vault. There are no other presences nearby.)

"...Who- are... you?" she asks. (Her voice is not rusty from disuse, thanks to the kolto, but remembering how to move it takes a moment.)

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...She feels a weird, deep set revulsion to claiming the name Palpatine here. 

"A researcher," is what she says instead. "Who are you?"

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"You opened the door without knowing?"

"Foolish." Another twitch of her hand, and the metal cylinder flies smoothly from its pedestal into her grasp. She holds it like a weapon.

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"I wanted to find out."

(Her eyes dilate a bit. That was the Force, indisputably, probably a lightsaber in the woman's hand.)

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"That instinct will get you killed. You have no training."

"What year is it?"

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She gives the year. 

"Training in what?"

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(...Significantly longer than planned. Hm. Potentially problematic.)

"Archaeology. Or the Force."

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(Soft, wanting breath.)

"Are you offering?"

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"You still haven't told me who you are."

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"The names I've been given don't matter."

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Hum. (What would her own teacher say...)

"I am Lord Sicaria, a Sith of the Empire who kneels at the foot of the Pyramid of Ancient Knowledge, a silent blade, a shadow in the night. Slayer of Ilum, Oricon, Ziost."

"You, nameless and wandering. Child. Researcher. Fool. Tell me why I should spend my effort on you."

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She lifts her chin - eyes nearly flashing as she examines Lord Sicaria, and she'd been immensely hard to read in the Force already, only not mistakeable for a Force null because she was too perfectly innocuous - 

And. Well. 

It's not exactly that she's suddenly easy to read, nor even necessarily any harder. Her emotions are that same placid naive inoffensiveness, that same braggado - but Sicaria can see now the mask as the darkness coiled under her skin slips past the edges. (She isn't doing it on purpose. She's posturing, is how she thinks of it. Adjusting her mask. Projecting confidence, will - )

(She's definitely untrained. It's almost like the Force doesn't care.)

"Children grow," she says, "And they remember their teachers well."

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She's going to have to posture a lot harder to make an impression on Sicaria. This is... cute.

"True enough. But I wonder..."

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She is beginning to loom without looming, a shadow creeping taller as the sun sets, a dizzy shift of perspective pulling the world into new focus. The nervous sensation that one should be checking for her presence behind their shoulder rather than in front of them. The icy drip of sweat down the back from the assured knowledge that the target of the hunt has been cornered. "...if you know what it is you are asking for."

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"That's what I'd like to find out."

(She is Zero Intimidated. Either in terms of what she's projecting or in terms of what she feels at any layer of her selfhood. From the look in her eyes she can't quite control, that isn't just arrogance. Foolishness, perhaps, but the foolishness of someone who looks at a soaring mountain peak and immediately starts planning her eventual climb.)

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In the time it takes to blink, Sicaria crosses the distance between them and has her lightsaber at Palpatine's throat, one crimson blade hissing an incautious breath from burning a streak across her throat. Not that she can move that much; Sicaria has her locked up tight with the Force, secure in her grip.

"As I said. Foolish."

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She holds very, very still, smirking. (Heart racing with excitement.)

"Curious," she corrects.

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"Sith are dangerous. The Force is dangerous. To be Sith is to hold a knife to the neck of everyone around you." A flick of her thumb, and an identical red saber blade sprouts from the other end of her lightsaber, exactly mirroring its pair's position, but at Sicaria's throat. "Even yourself. Uncontrolled curiosity will be your death. Perhaps I should spare myself the trouble of cleaning up your mess later, and kill you now." Her blade moves of a fraction of a fraction and twin burn lines appear across both of their necks. She doesn't even flinch.

"These are the impulses you will be fighting, the line you will be walking every second of every minute of every hour of every day. If you survive the training. You will suffer for the training. Sith were conscripted in my era. The training was not asked for, because no one would wish to ask for it. Three in five lasted less than a year. You need a better motivation than curiosity."

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The mask of bravado, of flirtatiousness falls away, leaving something cold and steely in its wake. (It's almost like the swaggering girl Sicaria was talking to has vanished entirely, an illusion drawn in mist and burned away by her blade. This girl standing in front of her feels just as real as the last.)

"I will have power," she says, "Whether you teach me or not."

(Cold is perhaps not the best word, nor steely.)

"I will have power, because that is what I am. I will have power, because the galaxy stands on a precipice, and someone must rise to meet it."

(Sicaria might be the predator, here, but her prey isn't helpless.)

"I am not asking for training."

(She doesn't flinch.)

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She stares her down for a moment, then another.

Then she deactivates her lightsabers and steps back. The background looming disappears.

"Good. You might survive."

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"I intend to."

A beat, then - 

"You're strong."

(She means in more than just the physical violence Sicaria just threatened.)

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"I know."

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Tiny smile. "Something else I want."

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"I'm not sure I can teach that."

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"There could be things I want behind just training."

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"Mm. I'm sure."

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Her flirtatious smile fades, some, but she doesn't say anything right away. Just watches Sicaria.

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Sicaria watches right back.

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"What will you teach me?"

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"How to call upon the Force and survive doing so. How to bend it to your will. How to fight. How to hide. How to explore ruins such that you have a less than eighty percent chance of getting yourself killed."

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Softer, more sincere smile. (Possibly actually sincere? She's hard to read, still.)

"An excellent lesson plan."

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"That's a list of subjects, not a lesson plan. I think you will not like the lesson plans as much."

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"We'll see."

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"We shall. But not here. This facility is not suitable."

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Nod.

Then, dragging the words out of herself (her masks slipping a little): "There's resources I have in my - normal life, but they come with someone who'll try to control me, and might manage to be - obnoxious about it."

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"Your normal life is a sacrifice you will have to make. I did."

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"You want me to leave it behind entirely?"

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"What good is it to you?"

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"Resources," she says, flatly. "Influence I've already built up. Leaving it behind will close those doors to me, and will set off a man hunt besides."

"There's no Sith Empire anymore. No Sith, period, except you, and some jurisdictions allow research or even a bit of relic collecting, but being a Sith is still illegal in the Republic. Your money isn't going to be worth anything in this era, though you could pawn off some items or steal, I suppose. Your name won't be worth anything, either, except as a reason for the Jedi Order to hunt us. The Pyramid of Ancient Knowledge means effectively nothing to me, and I've actually studied history."

 

"The Force is mighty, from everything I've heard. It isn't the only means of holding nor wielding power in the galaxy."

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"Then why do you seek it?"

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She's quiet for a long moment. 

"I just truly learned I can."

"It's important. Not everything, but - I need it."

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"You are afraid. Afraid of loss, afraid of not being in control, afraid of change. You sit and you grasp and you hoard- for what? You scrabble at power seeking security. You will never find it. Not like that."

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That cuts -

She doesn't let herself flinch (not visibly). She wants to lash out. She doesn't let herself (not yet).

"Then how will I find it?"

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"Stop lying to yourself. Stop hiding from your fears. Take control, rather than allowing them to control you."

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"I don't know how to do that."

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"That is one thing the training is for."

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"Regardless of what fears I may or may not have - I'm part of a royal house. Those connections will be useful, and I'm reluctant to give them up until I'm - more confident you know what you're doing."

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"Mm."

"There are things I must retrieve here. Follow." She passes Palpatine out into the corridor.

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She follows. 

And starts asking questions about the facility - the items - she's clearly educated in history and the Sith, as much as is possible with the censorship she bitterly acknowledges her home planet pushes unusually far, and she'd just as clearly spent a very long while in the complex before waking Sicaria, thoughts and speculation and questions boiling under her skin. 

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The history has been garbled over time, even beyond the censorship. Sicaria offers corrections incidentally, as they come up- but Palpatine has managed to think things through well enough that often her suppositions are close to the truth. She is less accurate when it comes to specifics of Force discipline, but that information has been much more thoroughly suppressed. The items in the facility are mostly historical curiosities. Enough to fuel a dissertation, but not truly upend a field nor lure looters.

Sicaria collects from various rooms three small wooden rods, a glossy obsidian tablet, and a carved stone stylus. From a different wing she retrieves a harness with six metal knives and puts it on. From the way it hugs the curves of her body without needing adjustment, placing each hilt within easy reach by a different motion, it was obviously designed for her specifically. Over this, she dons a voluminous black over-robe, stowing the other objects in its many pockets.

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"What are those for?" she asks, of the rods, tablet, and stylus. "Something seemed odd about them."

(She's relaxed fairly significantly in Sicaria's presence over the course of the history lesson.)

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"They are ritual objects. Anchors."

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"For what ritual?"

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"Most recently? The one that hid me."

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" - I was wondering why no one else found this place. It took me a few years still, but - it seemed weird no one else had followed that trail, or even just stumbled on the place."

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"You were searching for years?"

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"Yes. I found a reference from before the fall of the Brotherhood to some lost documents, and some power hidden away. I started digging, but couldn't find anything at first, and it looked like anyone who got curious started getting incurious pretty quickly."

"What got me suspicious about this area specifically was some patterns in movement of ships from some anti-piracy reports. People were avoiding this area, apparently without realizing. I'd found a note in a survey from a few hundred years ago reporting on this system a bit earlier and that it had what might be an old temple - they were using droids to survey, so I thought there might be something keeping organics away."

"This place hasn't even been accessed by passerby, which is unusual. Sith temples don't always get as thoroughly looted as other places - but the hermetic seal was still intact. A lot of the materials would've had different oxidization patterns if that door had been opened since the place was sealed, even if no one poked their head in enough to loot or leave a skeleton. The lock was difficult to slice, but not outrageously so, and archaeological teams or looters who know what they're doing could've gotten through it."

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"You put enough thought into this to know it was dangerous. Yet proceeded alone regardless. Why?"

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"I wouldn't trust any of my connections who would have relevant skills that far, and I didn't want it known I was coming here."

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Hum.

"Perhaps... you are less foolish than I initially assumed."

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"I take risks. That doesn't mean I don't look before I leap."

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"Recklessness is a different flaw."

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"I know what my priorities are, and I know what the risks are."

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"All you have to lose is your life?"

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"There's worse outcomes."

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"Such as?"

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"Returning to my old life with nothing changed."

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"You've moved beyond that."

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"Yes, especially in finding you."

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"Mm."

"You have a ship?"

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She nods. "Just outside."

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"Show me. I am interested to see how designs have evolved."

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"A lot, I bet."

Does Sicaria want encyclopedic knowledge and an in depth, keen understanding of designs of Things Which Go Fast, and how they've changed over the last millennia with some mentions of research on even earlier designs? If so, she's in for a treat.

If not, too bad, she's getting it anyways. 

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Sicaria's own hobbyist knowledge is far outstripped, but she can follow along well enough. The girl has some passion for the topic.

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At least a small amount.

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It's good to see.

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Heeeee.

"Really?"

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"Yes. If one cares for nothing at all, they will make a poor Sith."

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"There's a lot I care for."

"What do you care for, then?"

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"My teacher."

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"Did your teacher - preserve themself, too?"

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"I do not think so. She- has a very particular presence."

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"...I'm sorry, then."

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"I am still processing the implications."

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Slow nod. (She doesn't actually, really, get it. She has no one she's passionate about in any way, after all, unless one counts her passionate hatred for her parents.)

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"You may yet learn, girl."

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"...Maybe." (She's mostly succeeding at hiding how unsettled she is.)

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"How soon are you expected to return to your... worldly duties?"

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She thinks. 

"I might need to contact someone, but - I can pretty easily cover my tracks for another ten days, maybe three times that."

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"Thirty days should be enough time to begin your training."

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"I'll arrange it."

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"Where is your map? I will select a suitable location."

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She points it out, and how to bring it up and manipulate the UI to show other things. 

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Not too different from what she's used to.

After some fiddling around, she centers the display on a world in the Outer Rim, full of jungle and swamps. "Here," she says. "This one will serve."

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...Squint.

"What's the benefit of it?"

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"The Force is life, and of life. This planet is teeming with that. But it is not a friendly environment to our species. Survival will challenge you."

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She nods, slowly.

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"The power of the Sith is one that must be claimed in times of trial. Make your excuses and set our course."

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The excuses take a little longer, but she's efficient about it, and talented at flying the ship.

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Sicaria is going to spend much of the travel time meditating.

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She thinks, and reads through or looks over some of the things she took from where she found Sicaria - things she found interesting or potentially useful or just had a good feeling about -

(And she plans.)

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"We will not be returning to the ship for the duration of your training," she says as they drop out of hyperspace near the second planet in the Dagobah system. "Be sure you are ready to bring anything you think you will need with you."

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"Why?"

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"The ship is a crutch. When you grasp the dark side, you will stand on your own. And to command it for the first time, you must be standing on your own."

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"Isn't the point of a crutch keeping you from permanently fucking up your limbs until you can safely wean yourself off it?"

She's letting the fact that she's just being contrarian show through in her posture and face. (She wants to see what Sicaria will do.)

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"I warned you of the dangers before we departed. If you do not believe yourself ready, abort the landing run."

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"I'm ready."

She lands. 

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Then out into the world.

It's hot, and humid. The air feels like wading through soup. Dense fogbanks obscure visibility, the trees and draping vines vanishing into the white nothingness. There is noise from wildlife as well, chirps and screeches and buzzes and whines, almost as thick as the fog.

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Naboo is full of waterways and wetlands, and very often humid and usually pretty hot.

It's nothing like this. For one thing, the air on Naboo feels breathable. 

(Paradoxically, she almost relaxes when visibility is at its lowest.)

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"You will need to prepare a shelter. A source of clean water, food, defenses against predators. When you have these things, we will begin. While you work, consider if you would prefer to begin with physical or mental training."

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" - I haven't camped before."

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"Then you are starting at a significant disadvantage. I would recommend you utilize all your resources wisely."

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Nod. "Do you have relevant experience in this environment?"

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"Yes. I do."

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"Good."

She stops herself from just commanding delegation, but - "Which of those is most essential to get first?"

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"Shelter. With proper choice of location, the other factors become easier to deal with."

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Nod.

And she keeps asking questions - is clearly sorting for tasks she can do, tasks Sicaria will have to do, repetitive tasks Sicaria can easily show her so she can take over -

She might have never camped before, but she's been trained to run an estate all her life. 

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That sort of clear thinking will see her set up before the rain starts in earnest. Sicaria will not do the work for Palpatine, but she demonstrates when asked, explains thoroughly, and warns her before she makes a mistake.

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Good. (If Sicaria won't do tasks, then Palpatine moves to double-tasking 'listening to explanations' and 'doing tasks herself' to work more efficiently. She's good at this.)

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Efficiency is to be commended. (Sicaria will not be sharing the shelter Palpatine has built. She does not require it. (She feels wavery, somehow. When the rain starts, it looks like the droplets are passing through her. It might be an illusion of some kind. (But she doesn't look nearly as wet as she ought to.))

Hopefully she has also saved some thought for the initial direction of training?

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She wants an overview of what's possible, first. What possible directions are known to exist.

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The dark side is catalyzed by extremity, by challenging oneself. By the immediate need and overwhelming desire for power. To want so fiercely and so deeply that the universe must bend to one's will.

The quickest and most broadly effective way to accomplish this is mortal peril. The downsides of this approach are obvious.

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- Not actually what she meant. But, certainly explains some things.

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What did she mean, then?

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"What can I learn to do? What skills are important for using the Force? What knowledge is essential? What are the drawbacks, and how do I counter them? What skills other than using the Force can you teach me?"

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"Mm. I thought you knew the stories."

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"I know a mixture of self-contradictory legends, mostly about the Jedi."

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Sicaria will remedy that, as a first-hand source from the height of Sith power.

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Excellent. (She's curious still, and needs to remind herself that they should be doing actual training at some point...)

(She wants to learn everything.)

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For at least this first night, they can spend time doing this.

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Plan a little, get an idea of the lay of the land around them.

Though she does want to figure out if she should go straight for trying to draw on the Force... Her ability to plan for the future is saying no, she should prepare, but her eagerness is saying yes now. 

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There is a sharp limit to how useful additional preparation time is, in Sicaria's experience.

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But is it useful at all? 

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To an extent, according to her teacher's theories.

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" - Do you think preparing would be worth the time here?"

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"For a month... yes. Two or three days, perhaps, to assess your general fitness and state of mind."

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"We'll do that, then."

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"Very well. Then here is how we will approach that..." Sicaria briefly outlines a training plan, listing things to test and conversations to have.

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She asks a few clarifying questions, but doesn't have any initial quibbles.

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Good.

Then she should get some sleep. She'll be busy.

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But sleep sounds boring.

She'll sleep, alright. 

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Sicaria can plan the actual training to include no sleep at all, if she prefers.

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Does she mean in a skipping sleep with the Force way, or a sleep deprivation torture way? 

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Starting with the latter and transitioning to the former. If she's quick enough on the uptake.

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She will be.

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Noted.

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Tiny shiver.

"Will that be a common pattern with learning here? Suffer, until you figure out how to stop it?"

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"That is the nature of the dark side. As long as it proves effective, I do not see much reason to soften it for you."

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...More serious nod.

"And that's why only two out of five students survived even a year, in your era?"

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"Yes. The training was not gentle, and the strength of a student prioritized over the number of survivors."

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Hum.

And, almost casually, except for how keenly she's watching Sicaria: "I see why the Jedi won, then."

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"The culture associated with that environment was certainly a factor," she agrees.

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"Not just that - three students dead is three opportunities wasted."

"The Jedi in my time are powerful - they have systems that make sense, they put every single child anyone gives them to good use, they're widely respected with significant soft power even outside of the Republic, they're not bound by the norms of a government but by those of a religious order - "

"They just hold themselves back. It's pathetic. The galaxy shouldn't be a cesspit like this - people shouldn't die of easily preventable diseases or starve because of a spat between two of the far too many trading syndicates or because no one can figure out basic logistics like shipping because they flat out refuse to coordinate, buildings shouldn't collapse because no one kriffing enforces the construction codes - and people shouldn't wander through life not knowing where their place is, what to do with themselves."

"Three out of five students couldn't cut it, sure. A system that fails to identify who early enough to redirect them to where they're actually useful wouldn't even need an enemy to fall."

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"Is it your ambition to construct a better system?"

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"Or support someone who will."

"If the Jedi allowed adults to join, I'd probably just try to subvert their systems and use them correctly. Otherwise, I'm stuck with 'the hard way.'"

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"I see."

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"A chance to restart the Sith but better might be what's needed."

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"If you succeed at your training, you may have that chance."

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"You wouldn't be interested?"

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"Ruling the galaxy, or even a large organization, holds little interest for me, and I am confident that my own desires can be met without requiring such measures. No, I think your largest obstacle would be whatever hidden Sith tradition yet survives in the shadows."

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"You're sure there is one?"

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"I would be very surprised if there is not. Jedi flinch from the absolute destruction of knowledge, in my experience, and the dark side has a way of fracturing its way through any cracks it can find."

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"There's non-Sith darksider traditions I've heard about - but they don't admit outsiders, and they keep to themselves."

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"Those existed in my time as well."

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"The Sith are also well known enough I'd be surprised if there weren't revivalists, no matter how... Off base they get."

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"Mm. Yes."

"Either way, not a problem you will need to worry about just yet. Not while on this planet."

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"True enough."

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To sleep, then?

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To sleep.

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Sicaria will shake Palpatine awake shortly after dawn if she doesn't get up on her own.

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She does not! 

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They have lots to do, so there's no time to laze about. Up she gets.

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Grumble grumble fine. 

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Perhaps some calisthenics will wake her up enough to obtain breakfast?

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Probably. 

Though, also: she is not in good shape physically. 

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Unfortunate. For her. (For Sicaria, it's amusing.)

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Uggghhhh.

Can she cheat with the Force at this.

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She could, if she were able to consistently command the Force. But she will achieve better results if her unaided baseline is higher. Sicaria's own exercise routine is done almost entirely without that assistance.

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...Ugh.

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There, there. Bear with it.

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She will. Somehow.

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And after she's awake properly, Sicaria will show her how to forage up something to eat.

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Well, getting some food is motivating. (And she's forcing herself not to complain. But. Well. She's always had servants to do this for her...)

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And while she's eating, they can begin a discussion of Sith philosophy.

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Far more interesting than foraging!

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To a certain cast of mind.

(Sicaria draws heavily on her memories of her teacher, here.)

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"It's very... Individualistic, isn't it?"

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"Yes. Power is personal."

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Thoughtful frown. 

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"You disagree?"

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"Power is the ability to achieve your goals. That power is obtained through recruiting, retaining, and using good quality talent."

"Or - that's what I've always experienced and learned. It's true but - frustratingly so."

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"That is a politician's power. A Sith's power stems from their strength in the Force, and that is always an intrapersonal relationship. To be a Sith is to first be self-interested. 'The Force shall free me', as it is said. Not 'we' or 'us', but 'I'."

"You are your own foundation. You must be strong, be secure in yourself, or any edifice you build will ultimately crumble. Or you may be used as simply a brick in someone else's construction."

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Another frown. "A Naboo woman's strength is her house," she says, pushing back half out of reflex. "For the head, for any house representative, for the Queen: her handmaidens, those who swear themselves to her, giving up their own identities in her - the house's - service. Any other house member might betray her, obviously, if she isn't serving well or in their own self interest, but if her handmaidens turn on her she deserved it."

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"I see no handmaidens here."

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"I'm not head of my house, nor an independent politician, merchant, or ambassador. My house head could - and would - interfere with the process."

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"Then why consider that avenue above the one that stands unblocked before you?"

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"Not above. I want both - I want everything."

"I cannot gain any power that matters locking myself in a study to pursue the deep secrets of the universe, and I can't keep any real power if I can't defend myself, and every tool I have is one more tool I can use."

"But I do not care for shiny tools for the sake of having them. I want something, and everything I wield is subservient to my goals."

"I don't care about being the strongest bully on the block. I care about winning."

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"Your ambition is strong. That drive can serve you well."

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"It will."

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"Good."

That seems like enough of a break, then. Back to work.

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Joy. (She's warming up to it a little, though.)

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That means the tempo can increase to match.

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Nnnnf. (She's maybe starting to enjoy being pushed, though.)

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That's not a discouragement to Sicaria.

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Perhaps it shouldn't be. 

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If that's what she likes...

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Hard to say. Yes.

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Then Sicaria will oblige.

(She's doing the exercises alongside Palpatine. She makes them look much easier than they are.)

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Impressive - and helps convince her to push harder. 

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Hopefully she's not too tired for another discussion when they stop for food again around dusk.

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She'll find the energy somehow. 

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The verbal spar is more fun when her opponent hits back.

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Palpatine's always up for that. 

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A most eager student, she is.

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She enjoys learning. 

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Stretching her body and mind?

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Finding new heights she can aim for. 

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Has she formed any new ambitions yet?

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Perhaps...

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Mmmmm.


"I can feel that you want me," she says.

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(Shiver.)

"You needed the Force to figure that out?" she teases, leaning in towards Sicaria.

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"I don't want you to believe you had been operating with any kind of subtlety at all. Better control of your feelings is something you'll have to master if you wish to face a Jedi and live to tell about it." She matches Palpatine's lean. "But there is time enough for you to learn, young one."

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"For you to teach me?"

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"That is the duty I have undertaken."

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"Bet there's pleasure in it for you, too."

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"Where there is not, I will create it for myself."

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"Won't be hard - you seem to like being mean to me."

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"I do."

Quick kiss.

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Shiver!!

Excuse you she would like more kiss.

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Does she really deserve it, though...

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Doesn't matter. She wants it. (She tries to kiss Sicaria.)

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(She finds she can't actually move to close the distance of her own accord.)

Maybe she should put some of those baby politician skills to use. Ask nicely.

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Pout.

...Being unable to move is hot.

"Please kiss me," she says, making the 'please' sound remarkably insincere.

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She can have a kiss that's about as sincere as that 'please', then.

"How's that?"

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Pout!!!

"What do you want for a proper kiss?" she asks, figuring Sicaria might appreciate some bluntness.

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"Some respect might be nice..." She leans over to nip at Palpatine's ear. "But I could be convinced to settle for some cute noises."

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She obligingly makes a small, needy noise. 

"You'll have to do a lot more to get my full respect."

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"We'll work up to it."

Kiss!

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Melt!! And cute noise, of course. 

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Mmmgood.

Sicaria starts pinching Palpatine in random spots with the Force as they kiss.

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The first one gets a very lovely yelp out of her - smaller sounds after that, though, unless Sicaria escalates. 

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Escalation is something she's perfectly capable of.

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!!! (Much noise.)

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Perfect.

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She is.

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Not quite. There's still room for improvement.

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Not exclusive with perfection - she'll always be improving herself. 

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Fair enough.

(Since the real training hasn't started yet, Sicaria will permit Palpatine to get some sleep tonight, if she wants to.)

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She'd rather stay up kissing Sicaria.

Probably it would be smart to be well rested before the full training starts...

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That is her choice to make.

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Is the full training starting tomorrow? 

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One more day of tests.

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She pulls all nighters at school decently often - she'll stay up. 

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Then so be it.

(She'll be sore, come morning and the next stage of exercises.)

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A sacrifice she's more than willing to make.

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As long as everyone's happy.

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Well, she is. 

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For now.

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Does Sicaria think the training will make her unhappy? 

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She doubts Palpatine will remember it fondly in years to come.

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She'll consider herself warned, then.

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Sicaria, on the other hand, expects to cherish the memories.

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Preen! "You are very mean."

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"It is nice of you to say so."

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Tiny shivery wiggle.

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Smirk.

This day proceeds much like the last, but Sicaria pushes her harder both physically and philosophically, showing Palpatine the limits of her beliefs and endurance.

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It's exhilarating at first - then frustrating - then she hits her stride and finds a new exhilaration in it - 

(It feels like something's being shoved at in her head. Realigned. She's exhausted and increasingly needy - she adores any hint she's doing well - )

She collapses at Sicaria's feet well after where she would have once thought her limits were, tired in mind and body (wanting something she can't define precisely in her head).

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Sicaria picks her up effortlessly and carries her back to the campsite.

"You've done well," she says, softly stroking Palpatine's hair.

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She blushes, turning her face into Sicaria's shoulder. (Who is very strong - and that's apparently extremely attractive.)

(And... She's too tired to keep up her masks. But - there's still things under them she doesn't know how to express or even really feel.)

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Sometimes it's okay to just exist.

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Just existing here is - nice.

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Then they can exist together, for a while.

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(It's possible the thing she can't articulate is that she likes this, and will remember this fondly in the future, and wants more, to be run into the ground and hurt and then held and told she's a good girl by a woman who's genuinely hard to please -)

Tired snuggly girl.

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She can have the night off, then.

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She's definitely falling asleep unless Sicaria keeps her awake.

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Let her rest. She'll need the strength.

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She sleeps well and deeply.

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And at dawn-

There's no more time for softness.

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She can survive it - thrive even. (Especially if Sicaria's gentle with her again whenever she pushes herself to her limit and collapses. If Sicaria tells her when she's doing well, rewards her successes.)

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(That's not how she was initially trained, but- Sicaria can do better than that. Be better than that.)

Seeing her charge blossom is a joy.

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For them both.