Harrip watched silently as [member="Katar"] scratched the letters in the dirt, having brought his eyes back to her. When she had completed he understood immediately. The growl startled him for a moment but he stayed calm as best he could. He hadn't been treated as such during his time as a slave....well that was a lie. He had been treated like that, but only after the transformation. It had at the time made him realize that Sith were manipulative and he had been used and prepared for that all along. But now he was thinking of all the other people who had been slaves....
"I am not alone." He spoke quietly, thinking of all those people. They may not have had the exact experience, but they had been abused and used. They may have been put through tortures like his. He was not alone, there were those like himself. Slaves, or past slaves. Harrip felt suddenly surrounded, as if he had been blind and now could see. His self-pity had blinded him to all those around him that he could have related with. All those people he could have known and helped. He felt great anger and loathing of himself at that moment. He had failed to see, he had been blind, he had been deaf, he had been the fool....the selfish, selfish fool. He could have helped so many people, could have aided many beings out of their own suffering. Yet had he? Had he? No. He had failed hundreds if not thousands of others beyond himself. And in doing so had failed himself. He hated Sith, but that single hatred and pity of himself had blinded him to the slave-masters and slaves around him.
Yesterday he would have thought of this woman in front of him to be nothing similar to him. He would be right only in a little. She wasn't a monster like him, but she had similar a past. Who was he to judge people without learning their story? He would just assume since nobody was like him in appearance that they would never understand. Harrip was wrong. He was completely and utterly mistaken. He felt an overwhelming sadness for his failure overcome him. A single tear rolled down his face, it was filled with Harrip's anger, loathing, and sadness. But at the same time he felt great joy, this was also in his tear. For now he was not alone, he need not hide in the galaxy as much. He could confide in people, some would understand. His past would have been mirrored in the lives of hundreds probably thousands, maybe even millions, of beings in the galaxy. He could find and help those like him. Maybe someday he would find someone. Maybe, maybe. He doubted it, always doubted. None could ever have feelings beyond pity or fear for him. Happiness, bliss, calm, they were feelings lost to him. Nobody could have those with him. For he was still a monster, even with those around him that had shared life experience to some degree. And a monster would always be feared, even by those who understood it or tried to care for it. The Rancor was never loved by any, it was always feared, even by the one who looked after it. They had fought a beast only a little while ago, the person who created them still feared them even as he created them, Harrip was sure.
At this thought Harrip felt a few more tears roll slowly down the wrinkled Rakghoul flesh. He didn't move to stop them, that would only be denying the feelings that he had warring within him. Nothing could contain them, only his sheer willpower kept the rest of his body from following and showing more signs of his emotions. He felt that it was impossible for his mind to be so full of these emotions and yet not break apart. It was too much, he was sure. The emotions should break him, his mind should be a shattered ruin. Yet it stood like a tower surrounded by rushing water. He felt the insanity of his emotions entering him, even as the emotions themselves did but pass in control around him. He couldn't see what was going on around him, he only felt his emotions, crashing down on him.
(Listen to this while reading, helped me feel the emotion as I wrote)
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ldEM3h93Mfg
