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What a wretched little moon. The population was barely enough to sustain anything minimally decent enough to be worth spending your credits on. Viola, a prostitute who had been moved from the Red Lady branch on Nar Shadaa, was on her hands and knees, furiously scrapping the floor of the abandoned building, in the hopes of making it somewhat livable, at least for a short time. A small rectangle on the hip of the Sith Mistress puled with warmth. She moved her skirts, staring at the area, but there was nothing to be seen. No, the pulsing was something else, a small reminder she had set for herself. The Vixen who had sent the Prince of Cups was currently on the planet, and finally, Lady Shery deWinter was close enough. There hadn't been much she needed. A touch of the force, a sprinkle of luck, and a hard, cold lust for revenge.

Many options had been possible to bring the Sith Mistress' plans from imagination to reality. She had taken the time, waited in the shadows and plotted against she found the thing that would serve her best. An outright war with the Marzullo's had been out of the question, as did public recognition that might have went well along with that. No, she desired something silent, something deadly, and something that unless Raine Marzullo possessed knowledge of herself, would be untraceable back to her. As far as she was aware of, there was only one other person in the galaxy who had claimed the ability of the dream walker, and he was nowhere near in experience or studies to be able to rival Shery. The odds were stacked quite to her favor in this case.

Without a word to her personal servant, the Lady exit the room through the stairs in the corner and climbed to the rooftop, where a new rock chair stood, bathing in the moonlight. Although dream walking was one of her most favorite activities, the last year's tolls had kept her from being able to do as often as she would have preferred, and it had been a good five years since the last time she had to penetrate the dreams of a person she had never touched. Not only that, but she would be prying into a Sith Master's head, no less. Entering would be simply enough. It always was, once you've had your practice. But remaining... That would be entirely up to what she would find, and how long she would be able to hold her grasp into the alternate reality she would create.

Shery began to rock back and forth, her eyes closed to the world outside, a soft hum coming from her lips. If her deeds would have been visible the eye, millions upon millions of little tendrils would have come out from her body, biding their time as they spread over the tiny moon, passing through people and objects, harming none and searching for the mind they were to find, ignoring anything else they came across, interesting as it might have otherwise been. And just as suddenly as they had appeared, they vanished, all but one, thinner than a hair strand, linking between the minds of a Marzullo and a deWiner.

The humming stopped. Viola, who had heard it as she scrubbed the floor, understood what it meant. Within seconds she had rushed up the stairs and stood beside her mistress, serving as her living alarm clock. Shery's body lay limp in the rocking chair, appearing to be in a state of deep coma. Although the movement was there, it was almsost impossible to see her chest rising up or down as she breathed, and a pulse would have been just as hard to find. Her body was utterly vulnerable, though her mind was hard at work.

And inside Raine's head, Shery's invisible eyes opened and stared, waiting for the information to feed through.

Soon, she would begin.