First Reply A Wound and a Scar

[Thal Mantis]

After the events of Snatch....​

He could feel it.

He could feel it coursing through his body.

Screaming at him.

Years of torment, years of pain, years of suffering.

It all lead to this.

Shattering.

Electricity arced throughout his body, slamming into the ground around him. He had made it to Jedha. He had crashed, nearly, a ship trying to get back to the temple. But he was miles away now. And he couldn't hold it in any longer. He had kept it inside of him for years, suppressing what came naturally. Electricity- hate, anger, loss, manifesting itself in the force slammed into the ground. It was painful, in a way.

He screamed, trying to control it.

More of it coursed around his body, and he lashed out, scouring the ground around him with wide arcs of uncontrolled anger. He grit his teeth, looking to the sky, eyes alight with the raw power of the uncontrolled and untamed force- no tempering by training or by hope. Years of it all- a battered, beaten man.

A slave.

A fighter.

A gladiator.

A son.

An abandoned son.

An orphan.

A pariah.

Survivor.

Jedi?

He tried, he tried so hard- and failed. It was so easy, to let the anger get him. To let it resurface. He knew how he survived all those years in the red tower, now. The Force guided him. It was guiding him now, even. He fell to his knees, electricity arcing every so often from him. It tired him greatly, but he couldn't stop.

So he cried out, echoing in the force. Pain, rage, anger, suffering- a cry for help. For relief.

 

[Isar]

"Keep it up and you're going to kill yourself, Sparky."

A lean man entered the frame, a wad of thyssel bark chew in his mouth, one hand scratching a neck covered in floral tattoos. He had a sad little smile on his lips that never reached a heliotropic stare.

Isar of Zeltros spit the thyssel juice onto the ground where it puddled in a red stain.

He looked up at the Echani, who had Force lightning crackling from him, full of rage and pain and... fear?

"Yeah, I feel it too."

Felt it until the fire in his chest burnt away all other feelings. Until now he could only vascillate between an emptiness and an all-consuming hate.

 

[Thal Mantis]

If he crawled, if he ran, he could make it to the temple, he could get help. Right?

"Fu-" He grit his teeth, trying to stow the feeling away, trying to get it under control. Spurts of lightning slammed around him, powerful enough to leave indentations in the ground at their impact.

"Who- who are you?" He had to be sure he was real. He looked like something out of a fever dream. Perhaps some vision, or perhaps just some nerf herder. Thal leaned over on his knees, nearly vomiting from the sensation and rush of blood to his head. He dug his fingertips into the ground, trying to find some peace, trying to get ahold of himself.

"Wha- what have I done?"

Isar

 

[Isar]

Jagged bolts of lightning blew pieces of permacrete into the air, their coruscating flashes leaving afterimages across his corneas. The ground charred and blackened where they struck.

Aimless.

Pointless.

"Me?" Isar let out a wan chuckle, "That doesn't matter, does it?"

He knelt down in front of the man.

"The real question is, who are you?"

And what did you do?

Isar reached into the Force and his eyes rolled into the back of his head, eyelids fluttering as he entered another state of being. Then his eyes snapped back open, lilac pupils staring directly at Thal Mantis .

"Oh I see. You think you're supposed to just shut it out."

The scent of ozone from the crackling lightning mixed with a sudden wash of lavender, a pleasant aroma to most. A suggestive one. One that made this speaker seem to have all the right ideas. All the answers. Good ones too.

"Not how this works, Sparky. You feel that power? That raw energy? Right now you're letting it control you." Isar spit another wad of juice onto the ground, then pointed at him, each point a punctuation mark. And if there was a little bit of manipulation in those gestures? A little bit of exertion in the Force, telepathically? A tiny nudging of emotions? Well, who is to say... "You need to control it. Not the other way around. You're an animal. You've got the same debased instincts as everyone else. Admit it. Accept it. Then get a grip."

 

[Thal Mantis]

He grit his teeth and struggled to look upwards, every muscle in his body pulling him back down. He was fighting himself, fighting every instinct. Every part of him was fighting. Every bit of his soul was cracking, breaking. Fracturing. He had repressed things for so long, hidden them away. Locked away that hate. That anger.

He never let it go.

He carried it with him, a great burden.

"He- HELP ME!"

Despite his strength, despite his stature, Thal, screamed out, sitting up, staring at the sky. The air around him grew thick and static, his fingers curling into fists as he pulled his arms back, screaming into the air. Lightning coursed from his body, raw power, anger, slamming around him.

Thal was an animal, at one point. He was a murderer, a slave, a gladiator. A warrior. Thal the Deathless. Thal Mantis, the son of the Wolf. An Echani. A Jedi. He was called and was born many things, but he had no idea who he really was.

And he kept that in him, screaming into the void.

And now, the void screamed back.

His eyes rolled back, glowing with a blue-white hue, anger fueling him, veins popping, muscles contracting, the air around him becoming tainted with how deep his anger and fury went.

Isar

 

[Isar]

"Tch," Isar spit another wad of juice and rubbed his mustache.

"Help yourself."

The Zeltron stood up and stared down his nose at Thal Mantis . Despite Isar's words, the lavender scent slowly suffusing the air had a calming tinge to it. A suggestion of peace and tranquility. An echo of placid thoughts.

The telepathic waves coming from Isar rebounded off Thal, further encouraging an emptiness of emotion, a void into which to pour all that hate. It required a selfishness of thought. Isar did not know if this man could manage it.

Until the Jedi centered himself, until he grasped the reins of power, he would be a slave to the darkness roiling within him, not the master of it.

 

[Thal Mantis]

The scent entered his nostrils, bloodied and cut up. A vicious scar, blood caked over, began to bleed as his face flexed into a scream. The Zeltron's attempts emptied the bucket, but not into a void, but moreso all over the floor.

Thal looked up at the Zeltron, gritting his teeth. He narrowed his eyes. Manipulation. Coercion. Subversion. Enslavement. He had been a victim of it for so long. The pink hue of the Zeltron turned to red in his eyes.

"G-GET OUT OF MY HEAD!"

Thal's eyes widened, his pupils dilating.

The son of the Wolf stood up, standing at least a head and a half taller than the Zeltron. But the Zeltron's intended purpose backfired. Those years of torment, hatred, they had to go somewhere. He had kept them down. And the man who had used the same tactics they did in the Red Tower- the same scent, same feeling of losing autonomy of it.

Thal's fist curled at his side. Lightning arced down his arms- and he lashed out, intending to seize the Zeltron and throw him behind him in a brutal, fast, and violent hip toss.

Isar

 

[Isar]

Fleet-footed, Isar retreated, a spark of anger lighting up his lilac eyes for a moment before it disappeared, leaving them once more hollow and empty. He knew if the man caught him he would probably end up as a crisped piece of strangled meat on the permacrete. He didn't feel like dying today.

Maybe tomorrow.

Isar shoved his hands in his pockets and shook his head.

"Look at you, Sparky." He shook his head again and turned around to leave.

"The only thing in your head... is you."

The air shimmered and distorted, then the Zeltron disappeared.