Suttarishaar Tyûksaarai

A young Tsis girl, aged somewhere around the beginning of adolescence, marched up to him, dressed in elaborate black robes, and dropped to one knee at his feet. “My Lord Vowrawn,” she said. “I want to apprentice with you. I am Suttarishaar Tyûksaarai.”
“Are you indeed?”
“My family is Kissassai, Kissai. It is a good family.”
“You want to be my apprentice, or your family wants you to be?”
She looked up at him. Her red eyes were self-possessed and steady. “There is no difference,” she responded, her voice clear but not over-loud; she was not boasting, nor protesting – she was stating, to her, a fact.

As Tyûksaarai grew fully into adolescence, it became clearly evident why she had been desperate to secure an apprenticeship with a traditionalist Lord beforehand; grow as the rest of her might, her cartilage didn’t, instead sinking into her skin like her Tsis blood was being subsumed. He had the grace not to comment, and she carried herself pridefully enough that nobody else did, either; but one night he entered the shrine to find her sobbing, baring her arms to the ancestors and begging them for their favour.
Vowrawn sat down next to her. “They do not want you to weep for the taint in you, little one,” he said, stroking her cheek, along the ridge that was barely present. “They want you to be proud and strong, and avenge them.”
If she cried herself out in his arms, well, that was adolescents for you. She was proud and strong, after all.

He turned to Lord Shaar, a stunningly put-together Sith Pureblood who seemed to compensate for her Master’s chaos.

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