"Let's test it."

Occlus holds out her hand to Callida.

Callida takes it, of course.

And the resonance diminishes, but does not fully disappear.

Occlus reaches out to touch the carving with her other hand-

-and everything goes dead still for two instants.

And then everything becomes searingly, painfully, LOUD. A dizzying whirl of colors blur past their eyes, flashes of starfields, a crazed artist's imaginative interpretation of a hyperspace jump gone horrifyingly wrong-

And then the room is still again. But it's not the same room.

Becoming a Sith Lord involves gaining many things, and losing many more, but one of the things gained is a sense of composure under duress. Callida expresses her discomfort with a hiss, and nothing more.

"Occlus?" she asks, softly. Checking to make sure her master's all right. To her senses, she feels all right, but she'd like confirmation. Her use of her master's name the major indicator of worry.

"That was unexpected."

She looks around. They seem to be in some sort of trophy room, filled with all sorts of oddities, like that hand clutching a lightsaber in a jar over there. Before them is a display case containing the Ourobouros.

"The resonance is gone."

"Yes. ... Transportation of some kind?" she wonders, eyeing the display cased Ourobouros. "And the other end is broken?"

She peers at the hand clutching a lightsaber, and makes a subtle expression of distaste.

"Possibly..." Occlus suddenly looks up. "Company coming. At least one Force-user. Something feels... off about them."

"Unstable," agrees Callida slowly. "And is that a - hole in the Force?"

"Not the first impossible thing we will have encountered today. Let us investigate."

Occlus heads in the direction of the presences.

Callida follows, then pauses.

"This doesn't strike me as a jedi's sanctum. They'll likely recognize you, but maybe they wouldn't recognize me. Should I try for reconnaissance, to see what they do before they know a Dark Councilor stumbled upon their lair?"

"No. I want to meet whoever thought they could hide such an artifact from me."

"Fair."

Fairly soon, they come to some sort of entrance hall, through a door to the side. A wild-haired old man is gesticulating at a group of soldiers in what are almost but not quite Imperial uniforms, lead by a blue-skinned alien in a white admiral's uniform. The old man is in the middle of some sort of grand speech.

"-no mistake, Grand Admiral, this is my domain entirely. Your pets have leave to make their search, but they will-"

"Oh good," interrupts Occlus. "If this is your domain, then perhaps you might tell us where exactly it is."

The man spins around at the spund of her voice, madness in his eyes.

"You! Who are you! I will not tolerate intruders here!"

The red eyed man with blue skin makes a subtle hand gesture to the group of soldiers. They edge their way into a defensive line, alert and prepared for danger, but don't raise their blasters to aim at the 'intruders.'

He then watches the display, trying to gauge how he should react to best take control of the situation.

"Lord Callida," says she of the appropriate title, inclining her head, "and Darth Occlus." She gestures to her master. "Of the Dark Council."

There was his warning. Callida's curious how quickly he'll backtrack in a panic.

The man's features contort in a snarl.

"Sith." He spits the word. "Know that Joruus C'Baoth does not fear you!" He raises his hands and sends arcs of lightning crackling towards Callida.

Occlus almost smiles, at that.

Lightning. Of course the idiot would try lightning. All idiots try lightning. It's precisely why Callida figured out how to absorb it. Because she is so tired of people trying lightning.

Callida raises her own hand towards the lightning, and the blue sparking energy arcs towards and is collected in a glowing blue-white ball of energy floating in her palm. It's difficult, like taking in his anger and madness directly, but she's got excellent emotional control. Outbursts like this aren't particularly hard to absorb, really. Just sort of annoying. She waits until he's done with his blast, and then tilts her head slightly.

"Do you perhaps want to rethink that?" she wonders.

"Rrrargggh!"

It seems he doesn't. Here comes more.

Someone seems content to sit back and watch the show. From a safe distance, of course.

This might be rather funny, if it weren't so incredibly pathetic. She resumes catching his lightning, because no.

He's powerful, she'll give him that. Possibly more powerful than she is, even. Luckily, his petulant outburst is like a child's; directionless and unfocused. There is no discipline to give his power its spine, no attempt to forge his rage and power into a refined and deadly weapon. Just anger and energy, used clumsily as a bludgeon. And when it didn't work the first time, he tried the same thing again, but harder. It's sad.

Even so, she doesn't weather this second attack without a bit of a contest. He is, however clownishly, trying with all of his might to fry her. That's not nothing. She grits her teeth and narrows her eyes and ignores the stinging pain tracing its way up her arms and the rage she's absorbing into her soul along with his power. The rage is the troublesome part, really, she's used to pain by now. Rage might cause her to slip in her technique, and that is how she gets properly fried.

But she doesn't slip, and she doesn't let him win. She absorbs his lightning, trying not to let the rush of power go to her head, then lets out her breath in a hiss.

"Are you done?"

He seems to be angrier than ever. But he's also breathing hard, like he's just run a marathon.

"Impossible! I am a Jedi Master, you will not defeat me!" He draws himself up and takes a deep breath, clearly preparing to try something.