A Fortress Of Solitude

[Teynara Jeralyr]

| [member="Connor Harrison"] | [member="Lyra Naerys"] |​

​

A sudden surge in Force energy accompanied the abrupt move by his apprentice as she sprang forward, drawing a weapon she had hidden on her person and struck Connor by stabbing through his hand and pinning it to the table. Tirdarius started in surprise, having not anticipated her actions - apparently nor had Connor, judging by the fact that the young woman had succeeded. She has been listening more closely than I had thought. He had to admit, he was impressed: she had gotten right down to the heart of the matter and moved to penetrate the prideful fog that surrounded the fallen Jedi.

It was a lesson that every Acolyte learned early in their training: they had to truly experience pain, and embrace it, not simply shove it off to one side or resist it, the way that the Jedi would insist. For them, pain is a distraction, something that pushes their equanimity off-balance, he reflected, not for the first time. We recognise it as a provocation, something that charges our emotional energies and strengthens us. In truth, Lyra was giving Harrison the help he had asked for: she was teaching him something of pain, a lesson he much needed.

"We are not playing games, boy," the Sith Lord growled, glaring at the man now cradling his hand as though he sought comfort from the wound that Lyra had inflicted upon him. "You ask for understanding, but when given some, you dismiss it, thinking it mere play." Tirdarius shook his head, disgusted despite himself. That one so previously strong in the Force could fail to understand a point that an Acolyte could so quickly learn... "Your words are not reflected in your behaviour. You say you have submitted, you say you wish to learn, but each breath you take denies that you need to."

Pride was ever Harrison's downfall: Nobody is my Master. I am the Dark Side. I'm nobody's Pawn. No wonder he was struggling to grasp the basics of their path - one who would be Sith had to be broken down into tiny pieces, put through a grinder, shattered into tiny fragments so small that they might never be whole again, even if you could slowly piece them back together. Only those who survive the process prove themselves tenacious and strong enough to be elevated to Sith. How else can we trust that they have the necessary will to do what needs to be done?

The younger man would not see this, of course: his actions were sufficiently evident of that. He saw himself as he had been: a strong, respected champion of the Light, at the pinnacle of his power. Even when you have walked away from the Light, you still fail to take responsibility for that. The Jedi had failed him, and it was them that his hatred was directed towards: his presence here, and among the Sith, was a response to that. He wishes to use us to direct his path towards revenge. But never once had he said that he had failed them. That would hurt him too much: it would be an acknowledgement that the self-image he had built up of himself was a lie. It is, but can you admit to that, and believe it sincerely?

"Understand this, Connor Harrison: to stand with us is to become one of us, in your entirety," he remarked, sitting back in his chair and folding his hands before him, the tips of his fingers resting against each other, his grey eyes flickering briefly towards Lyra before returning to the former Jedi. "You cannot seek our powers and knowledge and walk away from the responsibilities of being Sith. Doing so will ensure your death - nothing short of full commitment is what we demand of you."

"Our goal has ever been to create a galaxy at peace with itself, one where a man may advance by grace of his abilities and dedication, not merely because he was born into the right circumstances," Tirdarius said calmly, knowing full well that such an idea no doubt ran at odds with what the Jedi believed of the Sith: to them, the Jedi kept the peace, and the Sith were the ones who shattered it. Creation of something new often requires that the old be torn down. This is but a law of nature enacted by our will. "But to be a Sith is to serve, to sacrifice everything that you are. Yes, you may become powerful, may become great, but you will be a servant in your turn. If that is not something you can embrace, tell me, so Lyra can kill you and we can move onto other matters."

Perhaps Connor would imagine that last part a joke, but Tirdarius was deadly serious: he could not allow a being like that to simply walk away. One thing the Sith was certain of was that Connor would stop at nothing to seek revenge on the Jedi for what he perceived as their betrayal, and that would leave him dangerous, a loose cannon that would inflict untold damage upon a galaxy that did not need further chaos. If he could not bring himself to take his place among those that sought to correct that, he would need to be removed, as a piece too volatile to remain in the game. And something tells me that Lyra would find such a thing instructive.

It was, as ever, a Sith choice: either way would demand sacrifice. The only question that remained was which one he would be prepared to embrace.

 

[Connor Harrison]

There was little Connor could do but laugh, and he did, pushing up from the table, kicking back the chair and walking around the hall. He let out a bemused laugh, a laugh one did when they had nothing else to do to a hostile situation other than laugh. He took his hand out of the cloak, blood stained, and looked at the wound; boths sides were streaked with blood and parts of it were already clotting, but it stung.

Shaking his head, he turned to the Sith, resting a boot on one stair that led up to where Tirdarius has come from, the bubbling lava still visible in the viewing panes above them.

"This has got to be THE worst initiation ever. Seriously.”

He let go of his hand and let the blood trickle down his fingers to the ground. The pain had gone; he had worked through it and now it just felt numb.

"I'm here, still, aren't I? I've not attacked you, bar the cheap glass, have I? And all I get is the same question and a rather nasty stiletto blade in the hand, but I'll let that one go.” He looked at the girl, before taking a long blink and looking away to Tirdaruis. "So what do you want to do? Either take me on, accept I have made mistakes and have lived a life blind to the truth and let me into the world I want to be part of, or let one of your strongest allies go and be tossed into the ash outside. I've accepted what I am, and what I can be. Flawed and a failure, but with greater resolve than many. So now you need to accept what you actually want. An ally, or not.”

With a wince, he looked at his hand, and smiled a little awkwardly to the girl.

"Not being funny, have you got any gauze I can wrap this in? I'd rather not make a mess of your hall.”

[member="Tirdarius"] | [member="Lyra Naerys"]

 

[Progflaw99]

Lyra had taken only a a half step back at first but had since shifted towards the table once more. The fire in her eyes had dimmed, but an amber coal yet remained. The blade now clenched tightly in her fist dripped with the blood of the former Jedi - small droplets forming a small pool beside her booted foot. The girl raised an amused eyebrow though the sneer on her face indicated it was less amusement and more confusion. Perhaps it had been her early childhood, robbed from her, that had created a void where humor normally lay. She found it out of place, humor amidst such deadly truth - perhaps the Jedi had been among his brothers and sisters too long, maybe he would never understand what it was exactly that now Tirdarius and Lyra had tried to teach him, or at least explain.

Initiations. Lyra's had been part of her own making though truly her trials had begun when she'd first stepped foot into the Sith Lord's fortress. Even now she could hear the edge to Tirdarius' voice, the subtle anger brewing beneath the surface. What he said was true - Connor would have to give up everything he was - and as Connor began to reply, Lyra got the distinct feeling the former Jedi already thought he had.

"...all I get is the same question..."

This much was true, she had simply repeated the question asked by the Sith Lord, though she had hoped the pain inflicted in such a shocking burst would have snapped the Jedi into line - clarify what exactly it was they were saying but he did not seem to fully understand, or if he did he hoped to skip ahead and bypass bits and pieces he might have thought of only as formality. It wasn't wrong, there were shortcuts - but the end result was wasted potential, a less powerful Sith, at least from what she'd researched. *And they say the Dark Side is the easier of two paths* the girl mused.

"...and a rather nasty stiletto blade in the hand..."

That brought an uncharacteristic smile to Lyra's face, her eyes dancing with a quiet glee. As the man looked in her direction she even winked, twirling the blade between her nimble fingers. She listened as the man spoke, though his words seemed - perhaps more metered, but still as if he wasn't grasping the full reality of what he was asking for. Even she hadn't fully known, or did she fully know exactly what she'd asked for when she'd started down this path - she doubted anyone fully knew what they had asked for, even the Sith Lords of old.

Still Connor pushed with the notion he would become an ally, no - there was so much more work to be done before a person could be an ally, and that bore the question of whether Sith truly had allies, or if they simply saw the world full of assets, people to be used. It was true, the various bands of Sith and Sith Masters would work together to achieve goals against a common enemy, or when it served purpose though to call such an alliance was a stretch. His final statement caused her pause, a soft exhalation of air through her nose. She raised her fingers to the bridge of her nose, gently squeezing a moment before letting it drop back to her side. He still wasn't getting it.

She would admit to herself later that a very small part of her desired to help him - but no, such was not the Sith way. This was but one lesson on the path of the Sith, just a touch of what was to come - for her, for him, for any Sith. As he looked back at her, she gently shook her head, eyes narrowing.

"Just like the Jedi - afraid to get their hands dirty."​

​

It was a poor joke, certainly, but it was more than that. Truly when it came down to it, wasn't that the major malfunction of the Jedi? Sure there were other reasons, naivety among them but what was glaringly obvious is that they lacked the intestinal fortitude to do what was required in the moment, too cautious - adhering to ideals that crumbled under the reality of the galaxy. With a distasteful sneer, uncharacteristically cynical for one her age, she spoke once more.

"Aren't you Jedi supposed to know how to heal yourselves? A mumbo-jumbo of happy thoughts and voilà, all your pain is gone?"​

​

Her response a bit snarky perhaps, but not entirely unwarranted she thought. This former Jedi, Jedi, whatever he was - now considered himself worthy to be an ally? That would imply that he was their equal and in that was his folly. Until he had been subjected to the lessons undergone by many Sith before her and fully released his former identity, he would not even be considered one of their number. The man seemed to understand what needed to be done, but perhaps not how to do it, his mind focused on tearing out just a part of himself, just the light - no, he would have to be reforged, the old burned away in it's entirety, turned to molten slag and reformed, cast into something usable. Perhaps he would come to realize this, but it was not her place to hold his hand through the process. If he truly did wish to cast away his former life, his former order, he would have to do so of his own accord though the terms were non-negotiable and complete - absolute.

[member="Tirdarius"] | [member="Connor Harrison"]​

 

[Connor Harrison]

"I would, if I could, but I can’t.”

Connor stared at the girl, thinking she probably knew it all about Connor. Jedi Master, sat on a pedestal of power and holding back to prove some big mighty point. But no. It wasn’t that at all. Maybe they felt it but didn’t really understand it, or simply thought he was pulling smoke and mirrors?

"Coci Heavenshield used a Wall of Light on me. I was back on Voss to actually pull all the Jedi information from their shadow headquarters to hand over to the Sith, but we clashed, and she pulled a power even I wasn’t prepared for. She cut my Force connection, and now there’s just a few burning embers I’m trying to fan up again.”

He looked between the two, and fully aware now he had left the gates wide open.

"I would have seen you coming with that blade moments before it even crossed your mind to attack me. I could have at least repelled your attack, Lord Tirdarius, and I could heal myself no problem. If you see, there is little clotting. That’s all I can manage.”

It really was back to basics.

"So as for stripping away who Connor Harrison was, I’m glad the Jedi have done that for me because now without their mumbo-jumbo as you call it, I can re-build myself with the Dark Side as a pure support and actually enjoy being the Connor I was born to be. Believe me, I’m ready for this.”

[member=Tirdarius] | [member="Lyra Naerys"]

 

[Teynara Jeralyr]

| [member="Connor Harrison"] | [member="Lyra Naerys"] |​

​

A Wall of Light! That did indeed explain much: the strange presence that Connor projected, almost as though he was an audible set to mute, and the fact that he had not been able to anticipate nor evade the harmful attacks of a girl that was by far his junior with regards to the Force. Even if she does understand the Dark far more intimately than he does. The revelation there was a shock, knowing as he did what the technique entailed: the Jedi had essentially sealed Connor's powers, leaving him able to feel the Force but not draw upon it the way he should have been able to. Like blocking a river with a dam: the water remains, but it no longer flows to let you quench your thirst.

It was a rare thing to hear of such a thing being used, but it left it hardly surprising that Connor had turned his footsteps here: if the Jedi would not reverse their technique, perhaps the Sith might be able to break it. And so we could, were we so inclined. Tirdarius knew how it could be done: the knowledge was buried deep within his personal library, a legacy granted only to the Lords among the Sith, a potential reversal available to them if they should require it. So Connor seeks to tap into the Dark since he feels he is forever cut off from the Light.

Perhaps, in those circumstances, Tirdarius would have done the same. Though perhaps not. I know the dangers of the Light.

"A Wall of Light is a Jedi technique used to sever someone's connection to the Force," he said conversationally, directing his words to his apprentice, given that Connor knew all about it. From theoretical as well as experiential knowledge. "By flooding the cells with a purging Light Side energy, they prevent you from tapping into the Force around you. If they cut off your arm, you might see an apple and feel as if you might pick it up, but you would be incapable." The Sith Lord shrugged, as if to indicate a lack of sympathy for such a fate. "We have our own version, but it isn't nearly so polite," he added with a faint smile.

Leaning back in his seat, the Sith Lord contemplated what might be done about such a fate: undoubtedly it would slowly drive what little sanity remaining to Harrison and shred it into tiny pieces. No doubt the Jedi intended a lesson of clarity for their wayward son. It was the sort of torture that only a Jedi could offer: no clean death, but a lesson that would remain present for the remainder of a person's life. Enforcing the humility that he never fully learned. Tirdarius could well see their reasoning, but had the Jedi known that their fallen brother would turn towards their enemies for revenge and resolution? Undoubtedly not.

"Peace is a lie," he said softly, reciting the first few words of the ancient Sith Code, his tone contemplative, almost as though he were talking to himself and giving little heed to the others present. "You have learned that much, knowing that the facade the Jedi erected around your heart served as a barrier to what lay beneath, but that is as far as you have gone." The rest, he knew, was something Connor had not yet embraced: he saw himself as damaged only insofar as the Jedi had done him harm, and his connection to the Force had been severed. But that is not nearly the half of it.

"You cannot offer me a strong ally in a state as weak as yours," Tirdarius informed him cooly, knowing well the anger such an assertion might provoke, but also hoping that Harrison would recognise the truth of it. At this moment, you are solely defined by what you are not: a Jedi. That was all that he had been, and now he had none of it left. But that does not mean you are broken enough. Not yet. "But our way demands that weakness be overcome, in time, if you are willing to make the sacrifices required."

But first, your biggest problem must be resolved: the Wall. There was one Sith ritual that he could think of that might reverse it, but a rather considerable sacrifice would be involved to see it done, and Tirdarius knew well that Connor might simply lack the stomach for it. Jedi are so predictably moral that they are willing to kill those they dehumanise, but they cannot sacrifice those they see as precious to them. Yet...there would be no other way.

"I wonder at your conviction. Are you will to let go of everything you once were? The friends, the lovers, the allies? Would you sacrifice all to regain what you have lost?" And even then risk failure, should you not be strong enough to succeed? Without the Force, Connor would need help to achieve that which might restore him, but the will that drove the ritual would have to be his own. If you're capable, it can be done. "What are you willing to do to become that which you envision?"

 

[Connor Harrison]

There seemed to be a break in the conversation, as if the curse that Coci had placed on Connor made everything fall into a place a little bit more. Not totally, but more than it had when he had stumbled in demanding to become one of them.

Connor sat upright a little more, hand still tucked in on his lap, but with a defiant resolve that had risen again after the outburst. He listened to Tirdarius speak to the orphan - who MUST be an apprentice the way she acted and looked - and nodded gently in agreement.

He couldn't be an ally of course, not yet. He had been stripped of his one strength, like having one of his senses taken away, and left to wander presumably to his death or his predictable return to beg the Jedi to save him. Well, not this man. The path to the Dark Side had been absolut from the moment he clashed with Coci and would have been with or without the Wall of Light.

They only succeeded in making things ten times difficult for him on the journey, but made him a thousand times more determined to succeed.

"I understand, and I know how this Wall of Light has changed things.”

He did - he was nothing to them, but had to prove he was something.

"My friends are not my friends. My lovers were never true. My allies are now my enemies. I have nothing, and I will do anything to get back what I had and more.”

If they hit him again, he would rise. If they stabbed him again, he would heal. He would prove it one way or another.

[member="Tirdarius"] | [member="Lyra Naerys"]

 

[Teynara Jeralyr]

| [member="Connor Harrison"] | [member="Lyra Naerys"] |​

​

A very Jedi thing, to reject and dismiss all attachments, Tirdarius thought in reflective fashion, knowing that this was precisely the way of it: they were the children who, when burning their hands in the fire, would snatch them out, never to try it again, scared of the pain, and thus rejecting it. Thus, they never learn the true function of pain: not to teach us avoidance, but to empower us. A Sith, thrusting their hand into the fire, would ignite it into a blaze that might cleanse them, make them stronger. Connor was running away, and asking that the Sith would help him to do it.

The simple reality was that he sought emancipation: hoping that they would free him from his Jedi chains, unleashed so that he might turn back and bite them, sink his teeth into the Jedi with the sort of zealous retribution that could only come from one who blamed their parents for letting them get burned in the first place. He oppressed himself, but it is the Jedi at fault. Until they are gone, he will not see that he alone is responsible for the choices that he made. He felt free, but he was still bound tightly by those native restraints.

"You're wrong to imagine you have nothing," he said lightly, narrowing his eyes in what served as a naturally contemplative gesture, the type he used when observing something interesting. "You have your pain, and that proves that your ties have not been severed. One who is released from the bondage of their attachments cannot be hurt by them." The Sith leaned forward, tapping a hand gently against the desk. "To live with the pain, knowing that it can hurt you, and always will...this is a start."

Connor wished to know what it was to experience the Dark, but he was a man in pain that simply wanted that pain to end, so that he might enjoy power once more. But we are not Jedi. Their power is ignorant of pain, but ours demands it. Sacrifice was the natural state of a Sith: their every breath was given in service to something beyond themselves, and their lives were dedicated to advancing a cause they might not see to conclusion. Through passion, we gain strength. And, for a Sith, passion was often derived from their pain. Perhaps the Code should read 'through suffering, we gain strength. To live was to suffer: and a Sith did not deny the pain.

"You won't get back what you had before," he said flatly, eyes flickering briefly to Lyra, knowing that she had already accepted this, and found it a liberating thought. Her path has always been suffering, Connor, the Sith Lord told him silently. She was not born into privilege, has known nothing but deprivation, loss and fear. Her past empowers her. Yours weakened you. "Even if you claimed the power of the Sith as your own, you will spend the rest of your life weaker than before. We will take all you have, things that you have kept even in your exile. Your pride, your confidence, your health, your sense of safety, your sanity." Tirdarius smiled faintly at the last, knowing how tenuous such a thing often proved with former Jedi. "All you will inherit from us is pain, the greatest gift any parent might offer their child."

No doubt the fallen Jedi would see this citadel, the quiet trappings suggestive of power, reflect on the titles and authority that being a Sith Lord would hold, and think it all magnificent. Can you not see that my isolation here is my suffering? That my life is given in service to my path, never to be my own? He could not simply walk away, could not take a vacation, could not simply go forth of an evening to take in a show, or eat in a restaurant. The life of a normal being can never be ours. We must be more than ourselves, and in that, are so much less. Therein lie the eternal exchange: for power, one had to sacrifice all. And with that power comes responsibility, a demand that we can never simply live for ourselves. It was a lose-lose bargain, regardless.

"But if you wish to be one of us, we can help you achieve that," he remarked, offering a taste of acceptance for what short comfort that might bring. "Such does not make you a Sith: for that, you must experience a true sacrifice, something you have yet to truly understand." Tirdarius' smile widened for a moment, his deep grey eyes glittering with the amusement the thought had provoked. "You must sacrifice that thing you hold most precious, the connection you have not dared to acknowledge here, but one never far from your thoughts." He sat back, bringing the tips of his fingers together in a resting posture. "Tell me...who is she?"

 

[Connor Harrison]

Connor rubbed his finger and thumb together in slow circles as he listened, the dull ache in his wounded hand almost forgotten now; an open wound left to fester while he focused on a future that was far more important than that.

It was clear that Sith had nothing; of course they had material possessions and their own personal habits, but Connor was beginning to see all of it was artificial to hide the reality of what they were and the gravity of what they stood for. If pain was a prize, than Connor was going to win the lot. The Jedi had helped him life a lie with nothing to show for it, and possessions didn’t bother him. He just wanted to be given the strength to do what he had always wanted to do.

Shape the galaxy for the greater good.

He looked between Tirdarius and the girl as he spoke, painting pictures with his words and conveying nothing to Connor he wasn’t prepared for. No delusions, no false hope. Just purpose and an understanding of the Dark Side he had been fascinated all his life. To stand by others who shared his view and his ideals, and equally his loathing and hatred of all things that stood against them.

The conversation soon took a side-ways turn at the last moment, and it caught him off guard. There had been a number of small sacrifices along the way, and he was ready to make more. But the notion Tirdarius made that there was someone he was holding onto made him uneasy.

Uneasy because he wasn’t sure of who it was. But logically, it could only be two people. There were names and faces of others he held dear, but he knew inside they had already moved on and forgotten about the complex and volatile Connor Harrison. And so he had to too.

He shifted in his seat and leaned back, trying to work out what this Sith Lord was trying to do. Connor was an open book to these people, but he didn’t even have the ability to know when he was being read.

The thing I hold most precious?

Connor just looked at the Sith while his mind raced; both men waiting for the other to give an answer or give a reason. Now, the ex-Jedi felt an external pressure on his chest. What was the answer??

The connection?

The two never far from his thoughts right now boiled down to Corvus Raaf and another. Matsu Xiangu was, but she wasn’t precious. Not yet at least. She was a light to follow in the dark tunnel ahead and that was his safety.

Corvus had always plagued his thoughts, often daily. Wondering where she was, what she was doing. The ifs and whys and whens. With her in his life, maybe none of this would be happening.

He went to speak, and hesitated. If he was wrong, what would that mean? He tried again.

"The one I lost, Aria Vale.”

Connor swallowed, taking a drastic chance at the name of the other on his mind with a hope to God his gut was right. He felt he had lost Aria in more ways than one, and let her down. Let her down and failed her. The pinnacle of what he thought he could achieve, only to be over-shadowed by her and left on the scrap-heap.

[member=Tirdarius] | [member="Lyra Naerys"]

 

[Progflaw99]

She paced like a pent up feline - the blade hanging loosely at her side. Lyra's piercing gaze bored into Connor as she listened, fighting the urge to once more indulge in the reckless hatred rumbling just below the surface - she'd played her part and to do more would most certainly be an overstep on her part. A wall of light? That seemed to explain why she felt as strange as she did about their visitor, the muted tones of the Force present but obscured. She felt a shiver of fear as Tirdarius explained what a Wall of Light was, the very idea of being severed from the Force a shocking prospect. A deep breath helped to suppress her fears, or at least hold them at bay for the moment. As the Sith Lord began to recite the opening line to the Sith Code she silently mouthed the words to herself. *Peace is a Lie.* She knew that to be true, to deny it was naivety, how the Jedi could claim anything else she had no idea. To see the truth of the statement, all one had to do was look around the galaxy - even in times of 'peace' there was a struggle to maintain that very peace; no, there was no true peace.

Her methodical pacing ceased as her master began speaking again, it seemed he had found a chink in his armor - and then he went for the throat.

"Tell me...who is she?"

Lyra's amber hue'd orbs locked onto their guest, examining his eyes as he was forced to face himself - to search within himself to supply the answer her Master already seemed to know. It was spooky - strange and unnerving the way her master could use the Force, the way she would one day be able to. It was enough to cause just a mild flare of the amber in her eyes before once more settling, the gentle blue of her eyes now marred - more of a darkened gray. Already the dark side of the Force was beginning to lay claim on her body - changing and affecting the color of her eyes. A smile tugged at the corner of her lips, Lord Tirdarius had found the vital spot, and now he began to apply pressure. Silently she watched, content to simply observe for the moment.

[member="Tirdarius"] | [member="Connor Harrison"]​

 

[Teynara Jeralyr]

| [member="Connor Harrison"] | [member="Lyra Naerys"] |​

The one I lost. Such an interesting turn of phrase, the sort one might use to suggest that anything further to do with her was long past, an absent possibility dismissed for reasons that Tirdarius was yet unaware of. There was no mistaking the pain that both of them would be able to sense in Connor, though: plenty of emotional sensation there, and not all of it a past tense. Regret, shame, embarrassment, feeling of failure. There was a puzzle piece here that had been left unfinished, something that had not been put behind him, much though he claimed otherwise. There's a very un-Jedi-like attachment in your voice now, lad.

That much boded well: in truth, Tirdarius had been slightly concerned that Connor's ego was his biggest attachment, the reflection he presented in the mirror being that to which he felt most connected. And we are the thing we love most, we are so rarely prepared to place ourselves in harm's way as a means of achieving a goal. Were that the case, Connor would be utterly useless to the Sith: he would never be prepared to make the sacrifices he would have to make, in order to do that which needed to be done. But when another is the object of that infatuation, progress can be made.

"You understand the nature of it, don't you?", he asked, turning his questioning eyes to Lyra once more, noting that she had once more lapsed into silence, perhaps pondering how best to next bait Harrison. "The things we tie ourselves to invariably offer both strength and vulnerability in equal measure. Their presence enriches us, gives us something to fight for, but also gives us a blind spot." Grey eyes turned back to the fallen Jedi sitting before them, experiencing pain that was far more existential than any Lyra had inflicted upon him. "We suffer when they suffer, and so we are ever at the mercy of those who will use such knowledge against us."

The Jedi sought to remove that danger by never allowing themselves to become attached to others: the absence of intimate connections thus rendered the danger irrelevant. But in this, you failed. Understandable: the Sith recognised that life without attachment was not life at all, but some quasi-existence that lacked the passion and substance that made life worth living. And the knowledge that we will suffer for our passions makes us all the stronger, he noted inwardly, wondering if the former Jedi understood this as well as he would no doubt claim. There is one way to find out, of course.

"You come to a simple crossroads, young Master Harrison," the Sith Lord mused softly, resting his chin against the palm of his hand, staring across the table with a faintly-amused smile serving to soften his expression, even as it made it more predatory. "To become a Sith demands sacrifice, and I now insist upon one you have avoided making: if you wish to be one of us, you must show that you are willing to do what needs to be done to make that transition." The remnants of his self-image remained in place, the one which defined who and what he was as a person. And to be one of us, you must kill what you were, so that you may be reborn in fire. "Aria Vale is that which stops you. So you must put an end to it, or forever be damned to your personal purgatory."

It was about time the younger man understood what it was to stand for something greater than himself. He had thought to do so among the Jedi, but that had ever been a lie. Now you will act at our urging, because it is the final chain that binds you. If Connor wanted to be free, he needed to sever one last tie, and live with the agony of it. Your pain will make you powerful. Or it would destroy him. Either way, his path would be clear.

 

[Connor Harrison]

His eyes danced a merry jig across the table, looking at his drying blood streak which now seemed to symbolise so much more than just a stab wound. It was his price of admission to the Dark Side; blood and pain and suffering.

The girl was watching him intently, and he didn't need the Force to tell him that.

When the Sith Lord spoke, again he made sense and was right. So much of Connor's past was etched into his heart for all to see, it always held him back. Corvus held him back, even the Lunelle sisters. And not just women, but the men in his life. Thurion. Dagos. Xander - and the one link to them all? The Silver Jedi brought them to him, and then he sent them away because of his pride and ego.

Connor listened, but didn't want to listen, for the walls were closing in. Scratching his head, flicks of hair became disheveled; falling apart before them. Before the circling vultures.

What could he do to Aria? What was he asking? It wasn't her fault...or was it? She didn't listen. Over-reacted. Left him when she said she wasn't ready but only to go to another. Why should she hold HIM back.

Closing his eyes, he calmed himself.

"What would you have me do.”

That was a question almost to himself. He opened those pained eyes, and looked up to the smiling face of Tirdarius, as if chatting over tea.

"You want me to kill her? Wouldn't that be a waste? She's more powerful than I am right now.”

[member=Tirdarius] | [member="Lyra Naerys"]

 

[Progflaw99]

The smile that had been merely tugging at the edges of her mouth now pulled harder, a wide grin appearing across the girl's face. Her features now drawn tight across her cheeks it looked as if she were practically brimming with glee - uncanny for a girl of her age, given the dark circumstances which had triggered her response. *Aria Vale - a name to remember.* Recalling names, places, events - such things had begun to come more naturally to her, as she had learned, these things could be of importance later down the road. To miss a subtle detail could mean one's own demise. Smile plastered across her face, she stepped lightly towards the edge of the table, a laugh almost escaping her lips.

The truth Lord Tirdarius spoke was equal parts reality laced with a subtle work of a silvered tongue. She could see the pieces forming together as he guided the former Jedi's thoughts though not directly but through the complexities of discourse - aimed at guiding his thoughts through provoking emotions, an effective tool even if not through the use of the Force. She could see the very struggle to resist the thoughts that now passed through his addled mind, refusal to admit what he knew must be done - and then his doubt was confirmed as he spoke.

"You want me to kill her? Wouldn't that be a waste? She's more powerful than I am right now."

With a raised eyebrow her wide grin turned to a sneer. Disappointment. Even though his mind had begun to grasp the realities of what the pair were trying to get across to him, he still fought it rather than accepting it. *Tsk Tsk*. Purposeful footsteps led her around the edge of the table, now passing the former Jedi master, and then in a second she was there again, her lips hovering dangerously close to his ear as she spoke, brushing against his shoulder.

"A waste? Even now you still try to protect her..." Resting her hand on the man's shoulder she gently squeezed before slipping around to his other side. "...the difference between you and I, Master Jedi.." She spat the words with venom, distaste evident in the very manner in which she now held herself. "...is that you have something yet to give - something more to let go of before you can even hope to join the Sith. This... Aria is a weakness. Did you forget about your hand?"​

​

In a flash, she stepped away from his side, the blade once more finding itself tightly gripped but this time not aimed at the Jedi but at the table - the loud clash of metal on metal sending a sharp rapport through the hall. He lips were now pulled back from her teeth in a snarl, her eyes once more enveloped in a hazel aura.

"She's more powerful than I am..." the girl said in a whiny tone, obviously meant to facetiously mirror that of the man before her. "Look at you. Do you even want to become a Sith? Your continued grasp at what was, or what might have been seem to suggest that you don't. You and your attachments are what are holding you back - power has nothing to do with it. Did I have more power than those around me on the streets of Telos IV?" She paused. "No! Did that keep me from surviving? Did that prevent me from taking my place beside Lord Tirdarius?"​

​

A raised eyebrow begged the question be answered - she knew there was only one which he could give.​

"What you fail to see Harrison..." her voice changed just then, back to the trilling song of a young girl, a playful tone. "...is that the answer really isn't what does my master wish for you to do, but instead, how badly do you want to become 'what you were meant to be'?"​

​

[member="Tirdarius"] | [member="Connor Harrison"]​

 

[Connor Harrison]

He would be a fool if he didn't tense when the girl came. His hands curled into fists, his body became rigid and his eyes followed her as much as they could before she curled behind him like a snake. Tickling breath on one ear, a firm hand on one shoulder. It was the sort of touch that made Connor shiver slightly. The girl moved over, and in a second had the knife back on the table with a crash, and Connor recoiled slightly, hands back by his side.

Connor stared at her when she snarled at him, not willing to be intimated by her tone or her bleeding orange eyes or the sharpness of her words. He was glad he could force such calm people to reactions as this. It was raw, and it was real and it was part of the process of learning.

When she simmered, he stood up from the chair and leaned into her ever so slightly.

"I will do whatever I have to. Nobody is important to me other than myself. I have no ties and no allegiances to anybody, so get off your pedestal before I knock you off it.”

He turned sharply to Tirdarius.

"Forgive me if I don't fall on bended knee to you and your wise words, Lord Tirdarius, or cower from the bite from your pet here like any other fool. Hit me, and I'll just get back up. You didn't think I'd be easy did you in all this? So I have some humanity left in me. All Sith do somewhere in their shells, even you. So I question the hows and why and my place. So what. Better now to understand so I don't falter in future, wouldn't you say?”

Connor prodded the table with his finger.

"I will do what I must,” he repeated, "so don't think for a second I won't. So I question relations and what people mean to me. Doesn't mean I will snuff them out if it means I can get where I need to go should they be weak enough. You want Aria Vale gone? Then I will get rid of her. If you want her as an ally? I will break her bones and grind her mind into pulp to be re-built into the mould of the Sith. If she has to die, then she will die. It's that simple.”

He looked at both Sith before him, each in turn.

"Now. Do we keep this lecture going around, or do we form a plan to go forward?”

[member="Tirdarius"] | [member="Lyra Naerys"]

 

[Teynara Jeralyr]

| [member="Connor Harrison"] | [member="Lyra Naerys"] |​

​

There were moments when Tirdarius had to wonder whether he was creating a monster in bringing Lyra into the fold, exposing her to the gifts she had been given, allowing her to capitalise on the potential that had been quietly awaiting her for years. In a moment of ascendency, she was directing a considerable amount of scorn and derision upon a man who would once have discarded her as no threat, dismissed as beneath him. Perhaps as he does now, in his own mind. He could hear that contempt in her voice, but something more than that: pride, something he had not seen within her before now. An interesting development.

She had been steadily growing in confidence, it was true, even though he undermined her in many things, pushing her to experience the limits of her self, to recognise the weaknesses that held her back, even as she tapped into power that pushed her forward. Perhaps the deprivation she had encountered, the suffering she had experienced, perhaps all of this had driven her to become a more savage, emotional creature, one carefully covered by civility, but waiting to be unleashed at a moment's notice. Such is how we often train our weapons, it is true, but is that to be her path? Lyra was at a dangerous stage, the one where her every action might tip the balance between civilisation and chaos, but it was progress of a sorts. He could not truthfully say he was displeased.

As for Harrison...ah, what a wonderful quandary he presented. A Jedi chafed raw by their ways, such that even the smallest aspect of their training had been quietly suppressed, dismissed as a lie, even though there might be considerable value in them. So eager was he to become a Sith that he had failed to realise how much of him was a lie, a deception even he did not realise was present. Does he know how many of his words rest upon unsteady foundations?

"Ah, the impatience of youth," the Sith Lord uttered with a soft sigh betraying his own inner exasperation. "When you reach my age, you may come to regret the time you have wasted wishing it would go faster," Tirdarius observed calmly, grey eyes observing the scene before him wearily: Lyra working to intimidate the former Jedi, and he, affirming himself with such misplaced confidence. "The Jedi taught you what it was to exercise patience and self-control, but perhaps your fall has led to you to devolve past the point where you would consider even such useful tools as irrelevant."

That was always the problem with those Jedi who fell from the Light: they couldn't wait to allow themselves to be swallowed up by the darkness, their loss of purpose so profound that any fate would be better than to languish in that personal hell between worlds. No carefully-considered filtering of that which was useful to them, no patient analysis of what could be kept and what would best be discarded: no, better to throw it all, and dive in headfirst into the Abyss. But when one falls so fully, the ways back to civilised conduct are far harder than one imagines. He'd had to kill a few such fallen Jedi himself, in order to restrain the destructive force they thereafter would have unleashed on the Galaxy, lashing out like children told to eat their vegetables, heedless of the consequences.

"You ask to learn our ways: allow me to teach you another," he said, leaning forward to tap a hand gently upon the table that Lyra had now twice marred with the jagged point of her knife. "We hold ties and allegiance to everything, our lives given in service to the Galaxy, not to our personal ambitions, nor to ourselves," Tirdarius continued, knowing that Connor would likely not believe it: the Sith were evil, were they not? "You have put aside your allegiances, and thus are not Sith, for your priority is on the least important thing the Galaxy has to offer: yourself. If you cannot see past yourself, you are of no use to us."

Some Sith invariably turned that way, their belief in their own superiority corrupting them beyond their duty, causing them to see themselves as the centre, rather than recognising that they were but a catalyst to create the change the Galaxy so desperately needed: order and discipline imposed by a strong central authority, that peace might exist after a fashion. Instead, they became selfish harbingers of war, seeking the downfall of others to ensure their own ascendency, not caring who suffered, or which worlds burned in their wake. Such are threats to all, and must be treated as such. If Connor's ego went that way, Tirdarius would kill him without a second thought.

"That is why Aria Vale must die," he continued, all traces of humour and gentleness vanishing, his expression devoid of all warmth now. "She is your last tie to the Connor Harrison that stood promethean, the champion of the Light, Master of the Jedi Order, righter of wrongs, purveyor of justice," the Sith added, a slight hint of scorn thrown in as he recited each absurd title. "With her death, you become free of that blind past, and might perhaps have a chance at a future that does not involve your pointless death." A faint light shone in his eyes now, not warm, but the cold predatory gaze of one who was watching his prey, waiting for a mistake. "Kill or be killed, no?"

 

[Connor Harrison]

Did Connor want to kill Aria Vale? The girl he met on Voss who was once afraid of her own shadow, so uncertain but passionate to now become some unstable force to be reckoned with? Misguided. Alone. Unaware.

Of course not. What even was this? Who was Sith Lord Tirdarius to decide that Aria had to die? She wasn't holding Connor back at all....wasn't she? He didn't want her to turn back to the Jedi, nor did he. The link to her was clouded and full of ifs and hows and whys and maybes. Maybe she didn't have to die, not physically at least.

But, if her had to, then he would. Killing was not an issue and taking a life would not make him crack or crumble. Death was a natural part of life and he would administer a fatal blow if someone stood in his way. He had done to Charzon Loulan after all.

"So I bring her head back to you, we have a hand-shake and I get some knowledge and tricks from the Sith? Does the death of Aria Vale suit the Sith at all? She already has links to others in your ranks, so by me killing someone other see as promising, I remain Connor Harrison the troubled ex-Jedi who has a temper, and then paint a target on my head for the next Sith to come and take for revenge. It's all one big cycle, isn't it.”

He licked his bottom lip, dragging his teeth on the flesh.

"Or do you carry so much faith in me that once Aria is dead, your Sith will actually see me as worthy and be welcoming with open arms. I trust you can see my point. I know how certain Sith work. You may work one way, but you don't speak for them all. The ones who, at times, bring the name of the Sith into the mud. I'd rather not attract their attention in my current state, shall we say.”

With a thoughtful sigh, he rubbed his chin for a second.

"See. This is where you now think I doubt you, or mock what you stand for or I can't do what I have to. I can, and will, but I'm simply thinking aloud here. It's such a simple task, killing another, that's fine, but afterwards? Then what? I may not be anything special, far from it, but I like to think I could at least do some good for the Sith than just killing a girl and then getting stabbed in the back myself. And how do I know Aria hasn't had the same conversation about killing her last link to the Jedi - me. So it's a who get's to whom first scenario?”

There was a moment he wanted to tell the girl to kill Aria herself if she was such a bother, but he didn't fancy a knife in the other hand. He subconsciously kept his hands close to his side. A wave of exhaustion hit, and he rubbed his brow with his palm.

"When I get myself back on stable ground with the Force, I will go and find her. Not before. I'm not suicidal.”

[member=Tirdarius] | [member="Lyra Naerys"]

 

[Progflaw99]

*A pedestal..* Her anger flared and in that moment she nearly lost herself, struggling to keep her emotions from consuming her - it had been one of the struggles she'd encountered since her initiation. On Telos IV, she had been cold, detached, distant - now, discovering that rather than internalizing her emotions but using them she could more aptly command the power that was the Dark Side of the Force she had also discovered the associated risk, or at least a facet of it. The tone in which the former Jedi Master now spoke was more familiar to her - one of dismissal. To her mind, it seemed as if the fallen Jedi was once more recoiling into his hardened resolve, unwilling to absorb the very understanding that would see him cut free of the strings his order had placed upon him. With a resigned sigh, Lyra retrieved a scrap of cloth, wiping clean the blade of Connor's blood before replacing it firmly in her belt.

Now the girl nimbly stepped back towards her Master, stopping when she stood fully in his wake and turned to face Connor where he sat. It was difficult to listen to the man, for he seemed to talk in circles, circles that led him back to his original thoughts and then back around again. She was content to listen as Lord Tirdarius spoke forward of plans - Lyra had played her part, perhaps a bit too aggressively. If that was the case, no doubt she would be talked to later, though that was not her current concern. She tried to piece together the parts of the conversation that she didn't yet understand. Yet an acolyte, much of the big picture image escaped her, or at the very least was never explained - that was solely in the realm of the Sith Lords and Masters - and she was okay with that. It allowed the girl to practice her technique with the Force, constantly stretching her limits and learning how to do things with the least amount of strain; Lyra still had a long way to go but she was progressing.

Lyra stood, still as stone while she listened. Would the former Jedi be able to take the first few steps of the path which lay before him, or would he choose instead to break direction and flee elsewhere? Already Lyra had been told there were those who claimed the title of Sith who did not deserve it, teachings focused only on skills rather than what it meant to become a Sith. Would Connor flee the duty to which he had been called, or would he choose here and now where his determination lay? She did not have to wait long before his answer - choosing to wait. Of course he said he would once the temporary issue of the Wall of Light had been resolved, but to Lyra it sounded too much like an excuse she'd heard one too many times. Suicidal? Perhaps slightly but there were histories of Non-Force Sensitives killing Sith and Jedi alike and not by mere chance. The Mandalorians were one such people and while Connor was no Mandalorian, could he not succeed as they also had? He doubted. Perhaps he doubted himself, or his choice of path - but if he let it, that doubt would be the thing that got him killed, if not by Aria's hand perhaps even one of the Sith themselves.

[member="Tirdarius"] | [member="Connor Harrison"]​

 

[Teynara Jeralyr]

| [member="Connor Harrison"] | [member="Lyra Naerys"] |​

​

All a joke to you, isn't it? That casual off-hand demeanour, that inherent mockery of that which he had come to claim - and, despite the levity inherent in his words, Connor's thoughts betrayed one other point of pure simplicity, whispered through the Force in clear and obvious contrast to the bravado with which he spoke: Coward. He did not want to die, did not want to risk death, nor even suffering, not when he believed he was as limited as he now was. With the Force at your side and a lightsaber in your hand, you would take on a Galaxy, but without them, you are shown for what you are: small and weak. No wonder he sought to claim the mantle of the Sith, to siphon some of their vaunted reputation and myriad powers for himself, that he might reinforce his self-image accordingly.

The disdain was evident, of course, the way the fallen Jedi acted suggesting that he felt he might almost be debasing himself by seeking out knowledge of the Sith. With the path of the Jedi eternally denied you, you therefore wish to learn our ways, not to be one of us, but to be better than us. That was the tone of contempt: the thoughts of a man who wished to walk away without making a sacrifice, to have his cake and eat it, too. Not that easy, however.

"We are hardly conjurers of cheap tricks," the Sith Lord spat, contempt present in his voice, a natural response to the contempt the former Jedi offered with his lack of respect. "If you felt that to be the case, you would not have come here, Harrison," he observed darkly, noting well that the Jedi had been quick to offer a more conciliatory tone, but such marked only that he felt he had something to lose here. "You ask for our aid with one hand and reject it with another," Tirdarius noted, shaking his head. "And in so doing, you missed the point: Aria Vale means nothing to me, nor to the Sith as a whole. But she means a very great deal to you, and that is her sole prominence here."

True, the Jedi were taught to put aside personal considerations, and had ever blinded themselves to the ways in which those connections might influence their development, both through the Force and beyond it, but the Sith were ever conscious of such. A friend, a lover, a family member, an ally - these were all strengths, all weaknesses. They could be exploited either way, for benefit or for grief, but they could never simply be ignored. That Connor had come this far carrying such burdens without consideration for their meaning gave Tirdarius some certain pause: does he have it within him to do what needs to be done?

At this moment, the Sith Lord rather doubted it.

"You wish to serve the Dark, but you hold yourself back from it," he intoned, the fiery-amber fading from his eyes as his reason reasserted itself above the momentary flood of anger. "Your friend binds you to the Light more steadfastly than any act of the Jedi, and you know within yourself that you cannot take her life." The Sith Lord stared across the table cooly, in control of himself once more, the sudden burst of emotion fading away. "Break that connection in full, and you may regain the other that you have lost. Fail in this, and you will be useless both to the Jedi and to the Sith. A simple enough bargain."

Sacrifice was ever the way of the Sith, something most recognised early on in their training: you had to give everything of yourself to gain but a trickle of power, and more and more would be taken from you, offered up freely upon the Dark Side's altar, for any true ascendency to occur. You have to be willing to give everything, because nothing less is enough. If Connor could not to do this - now, not later - then he would remind blind to the Dark, as he was to the Light. And it would be a mercy to spill your blood upon the floor now than leave you to such a fate.

"Come, we will find this woman of yours, and see where your resolve truly lies," Tirdarius said decisively, standing up and pushing his chair back under the table with a negligent shove, beckoning Connor to follow thereafter. He would see this thing done himself: no protracted search for the Jedi girl that her former colleague so pined after, but something more clinical, an opportunity for both of them to prove their mettle. "If you would be one of us, you will do what needs to be done. Or I will."

 

[Connor Harrison]

Connor stewed as he watched the Sith go on. Who was this man - this single servant of the Dark - to define what made a Sith and paint Connor with that very brush. Why was he fixed on Aria Vale so much. His dark eyes flicked between both Sith, the Lord on the edge of losing his cool and the girl doing a good job of keeping hers.

Matching the Lord as he stood, Connor kicked back his chair, letting it teeter on back legs before falling forward and avoiding a clatter.

"The girl will not die by my hands, Tirdarius. Not today. You can go on as much as you like, but I don't jump hoops in this initiation for you. One man serving the Sith. To you, she's holding me back. To another, she's a way in.”

He walked around the table; a mix of confidence and simple front to not shy away anymore.

"I am not finished with Aria Vale, not yet and I will not lose that chance by killing her. It's the easy way out, and a cheap short cut to the finish.”

Did he really think he could kill her? Yes, if he had to. But she was worth saving. Worth using. Worth standing beside.

If she resisted and proved Connor was still stuck in the Light...then she would die.

[member="Tirdarius"] | [member="Lyra Naerys"]

 

[Teynara Jeralyr]

| [member="Connor Harrison"] | [member="Lyra Naerys"] |​

​

His aggression at odds with the hospitality offered, Connor stood, his chair tottering precariously in a manner that suggested it might fall and strike the stone floor beneath it. The anger swirling through his mind served as a beacon to the two Sith present, a silent drug that they found potent but which drew the darkness closer with every heartbeat, though Harrison could not make use of such. Perhaps he thought to offer violence, perhaps simply desired to hurt them, but he was vulnerable and impotent in this place, blocked as he was to the darkness that he so provoked. Tirdarius found it amusingly ironic.

Such pride, such unwillingness to do what needed to be done. Here was a man used to deciding on the rules and making others abide by them, but also flouting the rules imposed upon him by others. Perhaps that was why he had ascended to mastery among the Jedi, that strong stubborn nature leaving him an indomitable force that they might use. But among our kind, it simply shows that you cannot adapt. One must move with the tide, or be swept away by it. Here was a man who needed to be in control even when he had none to exert, and such would be his end, if he could not change. Growth demands such. That which does not bend will break.

"Is it your way to have students dictate how their trials and lessons will be conducted?", he asked wryly, amusement clear and evident in his tone, a simple eyebrow raised in inquisition. Harrison might have seen himself as a Master, a powerful Force User, but to the Sith, he was an Acolyte, and barely that. More of an aspirant to such. To be more than that, he would have to be willing to learn, and sacrifice. "You have a very interesting perspective on how best to learn from us, Connor Harrison."

The Sith Lord turned away and strode from the table. Harrison's reluctance made it clear that the Sith would need to take matters into their own hands: if he would not seek out the one he apparently loved, she would have to come to them, so that their inevitable confrontation might be forced. He must face her and know that he hasn't the strength to do what he has to, or he must find it within himself to release him from his chains. The girl had a hold on him, that was clear, and the reluctance he showed now only proved that. That needed to be clarified, and dealt with.

"You needn't worry about a short cut, though," he said, calling out over his shoulder to where the former Jedi stood, Lyra still nearby. "The death of your lover does not make you Sith, nor would it raise you above even the least servant among our people." Hardly the quick and easy path your Jedi comrades suggested it would be. They had no idea. "But it proves that you might have what it takes to stand with us. Absent that, absent a re-established connection to the Force, you'll truly be useless, Harrison."

With that, Tirdarius departed, returning to his private office, so that he might examine a means of summoning Aria Vale to Oricon, and to reflect on what the meeting between him and Harrison had revealed. There was much to be done with the man, though with their audience over, it was quite possible the fallen Jedi would turn and depart, never again to grace their world. And that would only prove that he isn't ready.

Oh, yes, Harrison was correct that others among the Sith might still push his initiation, ignore the complex entanglements that existed in his fragile mind, induct him with an easier path and a far less demanding set of requirements, but they were also far more likely to leave him bloodied and broken, not a being of strength, but a thing to be pitied, the sort that you might put out of their misery, were you feeling merciful. And so few of them would do so. Perhaps it might yet come to that, but that would ever be for Harrison to decide. Though Lyra looks like she might like to help him along. That would bear examination, too.

They weren't done yet. No, there was much yet to be done with respects to Connor Harrison. Only time will tell whether it will be to his benefit. But it certainly will not compromise the Sith. Tirdarius would never allow such: he'd see Harrison dead first. If it comes to that.

He would simply have to wait and see what the Force had in store.

Thread Complete​