Can We Start Again?

[Kerstan Blackmoore]

Yavin 8 | Caves | w. [member="Áine"]​

--------------------------------------------------​

"Hell hath no fury than a woman scorned."​

​

Cold.

Kerstan had forgotten how cold Yavin 8 could be. The moon, while habitable, was far enough removed from the system's sun that at best a cold rain was what one could hope for in the summer months. Everything adorning his body was hidden under the ebony fur of his long coat, boots trudged through the mess and slop of melting snow and slush. There was only one reason to be on Yavin 8, only one reason why Kerstan would ever return the to caves which he could now see across the horizon. He had to be sure no one had found the cave he sealed off all those centuries ago. It was always the same, no one ever disturbed the place. His laboratory was always undisturbed, every trip, every time. Kerstan did not expect anything to be different, and yet he found his pace feverish, as though he were expecting to find someone, perhaps find her.

She had been his greatest success, and his greatest pain. There had been many failures which led to her creation, and many failures since. Successes were as numerous as his failures, but she would always be his best. The potential that the creator would fall in love with his own creation had always been there, and Kerstan, despite his wicked and black heart, had indeed fallen for her hard. Revenge had been her purpose, but Kerstan had decided he no longer wanted that to be her only purpose. The embodiment of lust and death had been poured into her, so it had all been too late. When she had done exactly what Kerstan had made her to do, he stopped his projects. Everything shut down, and now he returned to his cave, as he did on the same day each year to ensure the rest of the eggs were not found. It would be devastating.

Kerstan had made her to be the perfect assassin, and she was exactly that.

He never should have left it all behind. Kerstan should have chased her, and yet he abandoned her. The Sith often wondered what that had done to her, but the man could not dwell on that as much as his own goals. There was more for him to do, more soldiers to create. For Kerstan's plans to succeed, he could not remain fixated on the woman whom he had abandoned for being exactly who, and what, she had been made to be.

His hand pressed against the cave as he neared it. The cliff side containing a small stone which pressed in as a button. His engineering and ingenuity had ensured no one would find the remains of his work, just as it had ensured no one would stumble upon him. Dark eyes were drawn to the sketches which rest on the desk. All of them were of her, the way should would form, how she grew as his careful hands and work molded her. His chair was where it always was, nothing was disturbed, until he ran his fingers along the wooden desk and picked up the parchment. Sitting down in the chair he studied the face, the sketch, his work and creation. A heavy sigh left his lips as he sat the parchment back exactly where it had been picked up from.

"I should have never left you," he said to no on in particular not hearing the footfalls in the distance as someone else approached the cave.

 

[Áine]

Yavin 8 | Caves | [member=Kerstan Blackmoore]​

​

​

Yavin 8 was an icy wasteland. Everything was covered head to toe in a sparkling white sheet of ice, brought on by the distance it boasted from the sun. In ordinary circumstances, and to ordinary people, the serene surface would have been beautiful. But to Áine, it was far from it. The only thing that brought the fiery haired woman back to the cold embrace of the desolate moon were the memories seared into her brain with age. They were the only thing that chased away any doubt that this was were she belonged. Áine had no idea why she dragged herself back to this place, but she did so every year, without fail. Despite having lived five hundred and twenty nine of them, she still could not fathom what forces of nature drove her back to the damp and dreary caves. Caves that once held the joy of life, the excitement of a fresh face and eagerness to learn of new knowledge. Now they were empty and cold, devoid of any of the memories that once made it feel like home, the memories that had made it seem like a place of comfort instead of a place of abandonment and sorrow.

The past, when you lived as long as she did, was hard to forget. Many assumed it would fade, like watermarks on vellum, but it only grew more prominent with each day that passed. Despite the thick white fur she wrapped herself in, as Áine approached the rock face that hid away the secret laboratory and her childhood home, a shudder ran through her body. She recalled the day he left, the day she was abandoned to the complex nuances of life and the Galaxy itself. Áine had wondered back to the caves, where she had hoped to find him so that they might put an end to the conflict, but he was nowhere to be seen. Neither were the caves that held every worldly possession she owned. Instead she had been met with a plain rock face, no cracks to indicate where the mouth had once been. Áine had spent the following year simply sat in front of it, a permanent look of despair on her face. It took her ten of them to eventually uncover the secrets that would open the cave back up again.

An alabaster hand came to rest on the slate grey stone. It remained there for a long while, while she again pondered the reasons why she forced herself to come back here. Nothing jumped to mind, so the crimson haired woman shook her head with a heavy sigh, bringing her hand down to find the button that would open up the caves. The shift in the rock was palpable in the atmosphere, it ground against the cliff face with a piercing sound as the mock-door shifted out of view. Her bright green gaze was cast into the darkness of the caves that stretched out before her. Áine drew in a deep breath of cold air as she walked, step by step through the entrance and into the winding corridors that led to the laboratory. A familiar crushing pressure from the tons of rock above settled over the woman's head. It was a feeling she had come to cherish, it meant she was almost home. She kept one hand on the wall of the corridor, so that she didn't lose her way in the winding maze of systems. Just as she had crossed the half way mark, something made her ears prick.

A voice. That voice.

As it echoed eerily off the gloomy caves, the slender woman was forced to come to a sudden halt in the crudely carved corridors. The centuries had gone by in a blur, but Áine would never forget that voice. It was the first thing she heard, the thing that brought her out of the darkness. When her hair was grey with age and time had seen fit to wear wrinkled lines in her pale skin, Áine would still remember that voice. A hot wave of anger came over her, suddenly and without warning, it burned a hole in the pit of her stomach. All those years she had spent by the cave's entrance, watching the horizon, waiting for him to return, and here he was. Her fiery red brows furrowed, causing deep creases in the middle of her forehead. For a moment or two she heavily debated turning around and leaving the voice behind to wallow in the lament it seemed to project, but something wouldn't allow her. Something told her to take a step forward, then another, then another. When she approached the circle of light that cast itself lazily into the mouth of the corridor, Áine stopped.

There he was. The outline of his shadow, the smooth curves of his frame that felt so familiar. She should have felt joy, she should have been pleased to see him, but all she could muster was a deep rooted anger that had slowly been brought to boiling point over five hundred years. The experiment lent against the jagged rock wall, folding her arms over her hourglass frame. Half of her had expected to feel speechless in his presence again, but the other half knew better. She had grown, she had extended her reach past his vehement brown gaze, she no longer needed him to survive. So, when she finally spoke, her melodic tone was filled with the venom of a woman wronged. It was scornful and merciless, bitter and dejected. 'I had no idea someone as heartless as you was capable of feeling regret.'

 

[Kerstan Blackmoore]

Yavin 8 | Caves | w. [member="Áine"]​

--------------------------------------------------
"Hell hath no fury than a woman scorned."


Her voice landed on his ears as though he had heard the sound of it only hours before. The truth was it had been centuries. Over half a millennia had passed since her voice lighted upon his ears and the impeccable beauty of the sultry experiment dominated the attention of his gaze. Kerstan closed his eyes and clenched his teeth at the grating pain of her statement. She had meant for it to sting, and it had done exactly what she had wished. Slowly his head turned to face her as a soft sigh passed through his nostrils. The chair swiveled with a small creaking noise before his eyes opened and drank her in.

Nothing had changed. She was as beautiful as the day she had awoken.

-------------------------529 years ago-------------------------​

​

The pod was opening. Months of work had finally come to fruition. Growing the body had been difficult. Too many genetic variations had to be taken into account to simply let the form grow on unmonitored. Every day Kerstan had taken care to ensure that she would survive the most devastating parts of the accelerated growth process. Splicing together several species was a risky adventure, and several other attempts had failed to make it past the teenage years. Puberty was tricky enough for the living, but accelerating the process had proven to be the largest challenge of his plan.

Months had gone by, every variable had been accounted for, and as the pod lid opened Kerstan stood over the new life calling her to wake. “Áine,” he called the name of the goddess of love. She was to be a seductress, using love to blind her prey only to take their final breath with her kiss. It was an ironic name considering, but it was the kind of thing Kerstan appreciated. “Áine, wake up. Welcome to the world of the living.”

His twisted and devious smile would be the first thing she would see as her eyes fluttered open. Dark chocolate eyes wandered over the perfect complexion of his creation. She was the embodiment of perfection, and Kerstan found he did not want to give her up. Kerstan had poured his heart into the project, and like any creator, Kerstan felt possessive of his creation. She was made for his revenge, but until then she would trained, taught, molded. She would be his.

--------------------------------------------------​

​

“Regret is not exclusive to those with hearts,” Kerstan retorted. “It is the punishment for those who realize their mistakes far too late to remedy them.”

Kerstan was a proud man, and she knew it. It was close to an apology as he could ever give because his pride would never allow him to stoop so low. His words were also more than he had ever spoken to another in any form of an apology. She was his greatest success, but also his greatest failure.

 

[Áine]

Yavin 8 | Caves | [member=Kerstan Blackmoore] ​

​

The young woman scoffed, rolling her emerald eyes up to the roof of the cave with as much irritation as an expression could muster. 'Oh, I believe you. You're surely the expert in regret by now. You were always the type.' Seeing him was painful, she almost wanted to turn away so she didn't have to stare at the remorse in his face. His halfhearted apology had done nothing to sate the rage that burned like an unquenchable inferno in her chest. In fact, the weak and improper attempt only seemed to add fuel to the flame. All the anxiety and the doubt had come rushing back in one fell swoop, in one glance delivered by those haunting brown eyes. She knew she wasn't good enough, she knew she had done something wrong to deserve his abandonment, but she also knew those were the thoughts of a trapped soul. Those were the thoughts of someone who had been stuck under a weight so great it was hard to escape. She was no longer that same trapped soul. The willow framed woman pushed herself off the wall.

________________ 529 Years Ago ________________​

She had been in the cold for so long, she had only known darkness as her friend. Darkness and a voice. A voice that would flip between brash curses and gingerly whispered encouragement. There were times when the words were clear as day, and others where they sounded muted and distant. Despite that, it was something. Something that told her there was more beyond the prison of black she had woken in. The experiment didn't know who she was, who the rumbling tones belonged too or where she had been brought to life. Time seemed to pass her by in the there, whether it had been weeks, months or days she couldn't tell. All she knew was the darkness, and the voice. Until...

The first crack of light was blinding. The first breath of true life was painful. The first blurry outline of a shadow she saw was him.

Bright green eyes laced with confusion stared blankly at their sire. A fresh young mind worked quickly to bring some sense of coherence to the words he had spoken. 'Where am I?' Her untested tone managed to croak out. As the haze finally began to lift and fuzzy shapes began to form objects, the experiment glanced down at the body she had woken in. Being thrown from darkness to light sent her nubile brain reeling with confusion. Her pale hands lifted to centre in her vision. Ten perfect fingers wriggled on command, which made the woman with fire in her hair startle. 'What am I?'

__________________________________________​

​

She walked with confidence, as she had always done, hips swaying in time to the gentle rhythm her feet beat out on the stone floor. 'You left me, yet here you stand. Sorrow on your face and regret in your eyes. You don't deserve any of it.' Her sweet voice wavered with the anger it spoke in. One of the many things she disdained about being who she was. Rage never held the same tones as it did in others, rage didn't suit a woman crafted for love, even if her true purpose was revenge. 'I feel as though I would be right in assuming you seek forgiveness with your words.' The alabaster woman came to a halt in front of her sire, in front of the man she once trusted would always take care of her. Delicate features were twisted in distaste, as much as she could manage them to be. 'You shall find none here.' She had waited five centuries to see him again, and the conversation they were currently having had been played over and over again in her mind. But all of that went out the window the moment she laid eyes on him. All the practised, coherent arguments dashed to the wind. Áine didn't know if the sharpness of her words would affect him, nor did she care. It simply felt good to say them.

 

[Kerstan Blackmoore]

Yavin 8 | Caves | w. [member="Áine"]
--------------------------------------------------
"Hell hath no fury than a woman scorned."



Perhaps it made her feel good to mark him as an expert in regret or say he was the type, but Kerstan only few regrets in his life, but none as great as the one before him. He did not regret her. Kerstan regretted abandoning her. When he had found her gone to do what she had been made to do, and to exact the revenge he had designed her for, Kerstan had been furious. There had been many questions which ran through his mind, but the overall feeling which had dominated his mind was one of rejection. He had abandoned her over a false sense of rejection and the fact he would never be able to keep her as his and his alone. It was the dual nature of his upbringing. While he was calculating and would use whatever was in his arsenal, Kerstan had also been raised as a Sith, and they took what they wanted. Yet, how did one take and possess a thing that was made to never be tied down by any one man? Why was it that she had actually returned? Had Kerstan misunderstood his own creation from the start?

His eyes did not dignify the insult with a response, nor did his words. Kerstan simply turned back to the sketches on the desk, and the notations he had made on the scratch pieces of parchment which littered the antique wooden desk. Palms went flat on the surface, it was cold. Kerstan could not bring himself to look at her as the words she continued to speak stabbed him deeper than he ever thought possible. Had the feeling he had not been willing to name for so long ever truly faded? The words could not have stung so deep if it had.

-------------------------529 years ago-------------------------​

​

"Shhhhh, my little one, everything is okay. You are finally awake, finally free," Kerstan said as his large hand moved to stroke the fiery hair of the woman he had made. "You are on the eight moon of Yavin."

The first question was not as difficult as the second. Kerstan had no real answer that he wanted to give her. The technical aspects of what she was were not important. Over time they would discuss everything. She would learn to use every bit of the genetic advantages he had given her. For now this was about living. Kerstan ignored the second question for a moment as he retrieved a robe for the woman to wear. He had made her intimately and knew everything she would need. The other side of the lab held a living area designed to be exactly like what Kerstan had been used to as a noble. She would learn to live in their world, and she would learn to kill in it as well.

Offering a hand to lift her out of the pod, Kerstan also draped the robe over her naked body. A smile adorned his lips as he did so. After his eyes had returned to her green gaze an answer came to his lips.

"You are perfection."

--------------------------------------------------​

​

"Do not mistake my pain for the sorrow of loss," he scolded with a tone she had known all to well when she had been chastised before. "I know my mistake. I know what I have done, and I know I deserve nothing from you. I do not expect it as much as you are right that I would ask for it."

She stood close to him, and Kerstan been any other man he would be under her spell already. His DNA was part of her genetic make up which was the only thing keeping him from being lured to the death she would likely love to bring to him. Standing to his full height of six feet and five inches, Kerstan allowed a fire to burn in his eyes, though his actions did not show it. Every word was deserved, and everything he heard cut to the places they needed to. What could he say? There was nothing he could. All Kerstan could do was admit what he had done, and hope there was a way for them to move on. This was 500 years and more too late, but both of them were still young compared to how long they were both destined to live naturally.

Jealousy. Rejection. These were not things I was supposed to feel with you, and yet I did. There are other things I have never named that I let myself feel. Yes, I abandoned you. Yes, I ran from all of this. Yet here I am and here you are. Both us brought back."

Kerstan took a step back and looked her in the eyes.

"I am sorry."

 

[Áine]

Yavin 8 | Caves | [member=Kerstan Blackmoore]​

​

His refusal to meet her gaze was enraging, but the violent boiling point of fury had no affect on her delicate features, try though she might. The woman underneath the assassin's frame could feel it all, but her body was not designed for such emotions. All Áine could manage was a soft pout that saw the bottom half of her crimson lips droop low. How dare he. She was the one who had been wronged, not him, the one who should be turning away, refusing to look at his face, but all she could do was stare defiantly at the back of his head. 'You...' Áine couldn't even bring herself to say his name. 'I had nothing. You left me to rot on a frozen wasteland with nothing to my name but the clothes on my back. Not so much as a word of goodbye or a hint of where you had gone.' Where she couldn't make her feelings known through expressions, her voice picked up the slack. Áine wanted him to hurt. She wanted him to feel the pain he caused her, thrice over if she could manage it.

He wouldn't look at her, but she would make him feel the keen sting of regret. 'I have killed men for less.' She remarked this simply, as though it were a casual thing to wonder round killing strange men, but this was her purpose. It always had been and it always would be. Despite this her not so thinly veiled threat held no truth. Of course, sealing his fate with the kiss of death had crossed her mind on many occasions, but this was not true revenge. This wouldn't sate her need to see him suffer the way he had made her suffer. There was always the added factor that he was entirely immune to her charms and well aware of her poisonous kiss, but Áine liked to think that he would have kissed her regardless.

________________ 529 Years Ago ________________​

'Free? Free from wh-...' Soothing though his words were, Áine couldn't bring herself to calm the storm of questions in her mind, at least not until his hand reached out to stroke the scarlet locks of hair. His touch was tender and sweet, a sharp contrast to the icy chill that forced goose pimples to spread over her pale flesh. Everything was new. The frozen air she drew into her lungs, the bright fluorescent lighting that chased away the shadow from the corners of the cave, the kind eyes that started down at her with a mixture of excitement and affection. The only thing that was familiar happened to be the deep baritone of his voice, it was the only reason the fresh faced woman hadn't screamed yet.

Her tenderly crafted muscles flinched as the supple, yet sun kissed, face left her view. Áine found her eyes following automatically, surprising herself at the sudden instinct to do so and the willing way her body yielded to her commands. His graceful movements as he retrieved the shimmering silk robe captivated her attention. She could do nothing but stare as he made his way back to the pod. Red brows furrowed as he offered out his assistance, but she took it despite her confusion. The tanned skin felt rough in her grasp, touched by the unforgiving hands of time and the callouses of a days hard work, but it was comforting. The young woman used it to sit herself up and swing her long alabaster legs over the edge of the pod. Her short stature meant she was nowhere near the floor, but the sensation of blood rushing to her feet was a welcome one. It told her she was a live.

When he placed the robe around her shoulders Áine found a warm sensation spreading through her body that demanded the chill leave her bones. In her semi-dazed state she released his hand and pulled the edges of the robe further round her sculpted curves. Bright green eyes trailed from his face to his toes, naive eyes drawing in as much of his appearance as they dared. There was nothing about him that indicated he would be the one to take care of her, but if the voice belonged to him then she had no doubt about it. 'Who are you? I heard you in the darkness...' Confused though she was, Áine managed to fill her voice with a childlike wonder.

__________________________________________​

​

The words he spoke had no affect on her, but the tone they came it set her heart racing at a ridiculous speed. That voice was the one he saved for chastisement, one that Áine had always hated, one that made her feel like a child despite the fact that she was half a millennia old. It still rattled the cave walls, just as it rattled her heart against her rib-cage, but time was a great source of bravely. She might not have been as powerful as him just yet, but she was older, wiser and no longer afraid. 'Well look at you now, my Prince. Feeling mortal emotions just like the rest of us. And who should you punish for that but me? Who should be punished for the Prince finally knowing that there is a soul somewhere in the black hole of your personality, but the one who made him realise?' The rest of his words would do nothing to sooth the increasing volume of her tone. He always knew everything. For once she wanted to see the look of confusion on his face.

For a moment, and with his next words, it almost sounded as if he were suggesting that something brought them back here. Something that perhaps was a little more than coincidence. However, she had little time to think on it. 'You're sorry?!' Her voice reached a fevered pitch, almost inaudible to the human ear. As he moved away, she stepped forward. Her fists curled up as she released the grip they held on her frame. Without thinking, one of her hands cut through the air toward his chest. She knew it would do no damage. She knew she had no muscle to even bruise him, never mind crack his ribs like she had intended, but she still lashed out. One after the other her tiny fists beat against his muscular chest. Each one punctuated with words. 'It's been five hundred years and all you can say is you're sorry?!'

 

[Kerstan Blackmoore]

Yavin 8 | Caves | w. [member="Áine"]​

--------------------------------------------------
"Hell hath no fury than a woman scorned."

“I know...”

What else was Kerstan supposed to say in response to the accusations Áine had leveled against him. He was guilty. All of it was true, and Kerstan had no excuses for what he had done. The only thing he could offer was an explanation which would only make things worse. Kerstan knew long before this day his actions had been wrong, but the proud man had never been able to humble himself to the point of seeking her out and making his amends. He had been a fool, and there was nothing he could say or do to change it now, and while he hoped for some kind of amicable ending to this impromptu meeting, Kerstan did not expect it.

He had taught her to be swift and unforgiving in her punishments. Why would he receive anything else from the woman he had created to feel no mercy and no remorse in killing. She would not even think twice about ending his life, and Kerstan knew that she could. One kiss was all it would take, one soft, pleasing, but deadly kiss, to end his life and put him out of the misery of his regret. Kerstan had never planned or forseen that he would fall in love with his creation, and yet he had. All of it had been too much to bear, and when she had left to do the one thing she had been made to do, Kerstan ran away like a coward.

-------------------------529 years ago-------------------------​

​

The wonderment of new birth. Kerstan envied the young creation as everything was new. How her mind must have been absorbing everything. The world was new, and she had the cognitive capacity to see it all and remember it. There were so many who would do anything for such an experience, and Kerstan was one of them. He knew it was not something he would ever have, but it was a gift he could give to countless others. Áine would be the first of many more, and Kerstan knew he would never tire of this moment. His wicked heart had found something it cherished. Giving life was as addicting as taking it. Kerstan was truly his own god, he could give and take life, make it and mold it at his will. There was nothing he could not do.

His arms remained for the fiery haired woman to use as her crutch. Her muscles would be untested, firm, but likely weak from not being used. The next weeks and months would be the most important as Áine was going to learn everything a normal human spent years learning and developing. His hands lingered a bit as the robe fell over her body. Eyes looked on with pride as she took him in. She was already trying to place him, and it was his voice which drew her to him.

Kerstan smiled, twisted, but happy.

“Who I am is not as important as what you decide I am,” his silver smooth tongue already working to twist her heart and attention toward him. Kerstan simply knew no other way. “I am a guide, a father, creator, a friend, lover, master, a god. I am all of them or I am none of them. That is for you to decide. For now, I am the only other person here, and as such, your caretaker.”

His calloused hand motioned down the corridor which would lead toward her quarters. There she could properly dress herself before experiencing her first meal. Regardless of the past several nights of little sleep, Kerstan had found all the energy he needed to last another day.

--------------------------------------------------​

​

“What do you want me to say, Áine!? What words can my silver tongue possibly manage to utter which will quell the anger and appease your spirit?”

This time it was Kerstan who would advance as the imposing frame of his massive stature barred down upon the smaller woman. With a wave of his hand the exit closed behind her, his mind made up that neither would leave until they had come to some kind of resolution. Even in this, Kerstan still saw her as his creation. Despite not being able to possess her, Kerstan still wanted her, every part, as deeply as he had then. Seeing her only brought it back to the surface. Every feeling he had thought he killed had not been dead, but dormant.

“Do you want me to say it, shall I dare speak the words that I have refused all these years to speak for fear of what they might bring? Yes, I punished you, yes I abandoned you. I have always been a petty and fickle man, prone to reaction. These are my weaknesses, but the gravest of them pride, has always been my undoing.”

She came at him, her fists balled and pounding against his chest with all the rage she had inside her. There was little they would do against the sculpted muscles his seven century old body boasted. Yet, he let her best against him. Had she been anyone else, Kerstan would have simply reached up and snapped their neck with swift grab and twist of his hand. Instead he did the only thing he knew to do. His creation was in pain. She was angry, and as he had done from the first day, his arms wrapped her up, fighting to pull her close to him.

“I do not know what to say to make this go away, or to change it. I cannot, my sciences and power do not make me omnipotent,” his voice softened. “I can only beg and plead. I can only say that... I... I am deeply sorry.”

 

[Áine]

Yavin 8 | Caves | [member=Kerstan Blacmoore]​

​

What few words he managed to mumble out at her in response were far from satisfactory. Part of her was pleased he felt so speechless at her sharp edged words, but somewhere deep inside she knew she needed more than that. Something beyond the weak attempt at the words of apology he had already tried to offer. 'Must I do everything for you?!' Her chest heaved up and down with the spiteful words. 'I WANT YOU TO FEEL HOW I FEEL.' The screeched words were so pitched they were followed quickly by a sharp shattering sound as several ancient test tubes exploded into fine shards of glass. Whether it was her voice that had accomplished the task, or the obvious and growing darkness that swelled around her like a cloud, it was difficult to say. When he had last left her, her powers were still growing. She was on the cusp of discovering what darkness she held at the tips of her fingers, what raw and unrefined potential she had hidden away just waiting to be tapped into. Now, five hundred years on, she was well aware. Yet even the most practised of beings can loose control of the darkness in the blink of an eye.

When the thundering sound of rock against rock echoed out through the hollow caves, Áine's face grew dark. There was plenty she could do to open the exit up again, but the idea of being trapped with him seemed appealing. He wouldn't leave until he had suffered as much as he had made her. 'Petty and fickle are far kinder words than I would have chosen.' Malice rolled from her voice despite the bird like quality it maintained. 'Damn you, and damn your pride!' The very drop pod she had been brought to life in rumbled against the stone floor loudly. Her anger grew so great the darkness surrounding her felt tangible in the air, like you could cut through it with a butter knife. All around them the unnatural glow of fluorescent lighting flickered, every now and then casting them in a shadowed darkness that was only broken with the soft thud of her fists against his chest. When his arms reached out for her she cried out again, weak muscles trying to wretch themselves free of his grasp. Once upon a time she would have relished his touch, but right now there was nothing so loathed more.

Her delicate frame meant she wouldn't budge him with anything remotely physical, and she wasn't thick enough to let the thought of using the force against him cross her mind. Strength came in many different forms, and she could match Kerstan in none of them. Áine was powerless. After all these years, after all that she had been through, he could still make her feel trapped by his presence. Finally, her slender arms gave up, going entirely limp in the forced embrace he had captured her in. 'You left me.' Her words were no longer filled with the spiteful tone she had previously used. Instead it had turned soft, barely a whisper against the breeze that wound through the cracks in the cave. Fear and anger had abandoned her, fallen away to reveal the truth. Sorrow, rejection, and above all a broken heart. Áine would be dammed if she let him see her cry. To hide the silvery droplets that crept across her pale cheeks, she cast her emerald gaze to the floor. Even through the haze of anger and the slowly creeping shadow of sadness, Áine knew that his arms encircling her was the only peace she had known for years.

________________ 529 Years Ago________________​

​

'If you will not tell me who you are, will you tell me who I am?' Though her mind was lost in confusion at his choice of words, Áine found the pools of his dark brown eyes a comfort. She knew little about the man who claimed to be many things, but what she did know for certain was that those eyes held all the answers. Everything she could think of to question, he would have an answer to offer that she had no choice but to accept as truth. Because as he had so keenly pointed out, he was the only other person here. 'Will you tell me why you woke me? What I am here for?' As she spoke she slipped her arms through the holes in either side of the robe, stretching her fingers as they broke free of the soft fabric. 'What do you call me?' Her gaze caught his calloused hand as it motioned out toward the corridor. Though he hadn't expressly told her to stop questioning, Áine took it as a sign that they had other issues to attend to first.

With a tentative touch, she reached to take hold of the steady support he offered out. For some reason her body seemed to know what it was doing as she inched forward to slip off the edge of the pod. The weak, unused knees gave way almost immediately, forcing Áine to catch herself. One hand on the edge of the pod and the other clinging on to Kerstan's arm for dear life, her brows once again furrowed. 'These are no use.' Her tone was slightly off, grumpy and filled with disappointment at the lack of immediate progress. A flash of pale skin caught the light as her foot flicked out limply through the air. All things considered she would have preferred to stay in the darkness, things were simpler there. Eventually she managed to convince her arms to latch onto Kerstan's forearm, enough so that she could hoist herself to a stand. With a deep breath that she held as she moved, Áine took her first unsteady steps across the solid stone floor. A crimson smile lit up her face in celebration, which at first she kept to herself. 'I'm doing it!' When the shaky steps became more sure of themselves, emerald eyes full of joy looked up to finally share the smile with Kerstan.

A child's curiosity never ceased to exist, even as she celebrated her success in taking her first steps, her insatiable mind continued to question. 'What does a caretaker do? And what is through here?' Her head tilted curiously as they made their slow, steady way toward the dimly lit corridor. After nothing but darkness for an undetermined amount of time, Áine couldn't picture what more the world could possibly have to hold beyond the room she had woken up in.

__________________________________________​

The thoughts were followed quickly by others, other truths and facts that had been hidden from view in the throws of rage. Kerstan was the only one who had loved Áine for her. Not because he had genetically engineered her to be without flaws, without a single hair out of place, but because of her. Like a flower cascading itself in beautiful colours to attract a bee, Áine was designed to attract love. Whether the true thing or disguising itself as lust, it followed her everywhere she went, hanging over her like the black shadow of death it had moulded into over many years. Some took weeks to fall, some days, some had fallen before she even spoke her name. But it was all false. All of it a repercussion of what she was. A killer who used trust, love and lust as her bait. Kerstan was the only soul alive, that she knew of, that wasn't affected by the pheromones he'd created in any way. He was the only one she had known who's love wasn't a product of darkness. He was the only one so far who had loved the woman behind the killer. With a soft sigh, Áine finally fell forward to rest against his chest in defeat.

Her voice broke, wobbling with a softly spoken sadness that told him more than her anger ever could. 'I was alone for so long. Nobody-...' She had done away with attempting to hide the tears as they caught her throat. No matter what she felt it was good to do away with the false faces she had been wearing for five hundred years. It was good to be able to cast aside the constant anxiety that told her nobody would ever feel anything real for her. The notions had been playing over and over again in her mind like a broken record, chipping away at her sanity piece by piece. As the words cut off from her throat, Áine finally allowed herself to fully relent. She melted into his embrace, disappearing entirely in his muscular arms as she buried her pale face away into the ebony furs to let the tears come as they pleased. Even in sorrow she seemed beautiful. Her shoulders shook with silent sobs, body vibrating with the effort she hadn't realised she was putting into it.

When she had taken her first steps across the cave, arm in arm with the man who currently held her, he had spoken a sentence she had never forgotten. 'I am a guide, a father, a creator, a friend, lover, master, a god.' He had told her that he would become all of them, or none of them, and back then it had made no sense to her. The woman standing before him now recalled feeling confused, but nothing had given her more clarity on the subject than the day he had left her. He was all of them, and more. In the twenty-nine years they had spent together, Kerstan had become her whole world. The only comfort she had ever known, the only family she had any claim too. The only one who knew what it felt like to live thousands of years, to watch everyone you even grew remotely close too drop like flies at the hands of time. The only one who understood she was more than the siren's body he had trapped her in.

His soft tone prompted her to bring her arms up to fold across her curves, not yet ready to reciprocate the gentle caress he had offered. He had a way of making her feel weak, a feeling she had happily cast to the corners of her mind in the years they had spent apart. The moment she allowed her arms to do their best to circle his waist would be the moment she had lost. Even if the words forgiveness never left her mouth, she knew the moment she returned his embrace he would know that she had. Despite sorrow having replaced her rage, Áine wasn't ready for that. Not yet. The alabaster woman lifted her head up from his chest, sharp emerald orbs searching for his own. 'What can words do, Kerstan?' Though filled with tears that threatened to spill again, her eyes held their gaze on his. 'That day... when I came back to find the door closed I thought you had forgotten to leave it open. I thought you were still in there.' For a brief second her lips brought themselves up into a foolish smile, a smile that was meant to chastise her for her own stupidity. 'After about a few hours, and no end of searching for your ship, I thought maybe you had gone somewhere. That you would come back soon.'

Áine pressed her lips together and coupled it with a gentle shake of her head. 'I waited for weeks, Kerstan. Through my own stupidity, I sat outside of this very cave and I waited. Watching the horizon for a sign of your ship, reaching out to try and find some sign of your heart beat anywhere on this desolate moon, waiting...' Soft, fine-boned fingers reached out to press gently against his muscular chest, to feel the barely perceptible thump of his heart. The rhythm it pumped out was just like any of the other thousand hearts she had felt. Under all his glamour and mystery, hidden behind his power and noble pretences, he was still just a man. 'Tell me, can words give those nights back to me, and all the ones I spent after trying to find my way in the Galaxy? Can they dull the pain of finally realising that the only person who could say their love was true would abandon me so readily? I have known a lot of love, all of them a trick, fabricated by what you made me to be. Yet none have been more false than the one you claim to have for me.'

 

[Kerstan Blackmoore]

Yavin 8 | Caves | w. [member="Áine"]
--------------------------------------------------
"Hell hath no fury than a woman scorned."


The room around him began to shake as the raw power of his creation began to manifest itself the angrier she became. While her features could not express the deep level of anger and betrayal she felt, the power which shook the room did. Kerstan knew there was nothing he could say or do that would ever bring healing to the wound he had cut into her heart. Had she ever loved him in return? Kerstan had been so wrong to assume her heart was not capable of feeling love, or the deep emotions he thought he was immune to. Yet the day she left to seduce and kill the man he had created her to seduce and kill, Kerstan had known that his heart was not the cold and isolated thing he thought it was. He had run from himself as much as he had from her, and his cowardice did not deserve her love or forgiveness, and yet he craved it.

“Why do you assume I have not felt it?” His eyes went wide with as his own aura pressed against the shaking. His power could match hers, overtake it, and he knew it. She still did not know everything she was capable of, and Kerstan was the only one who could show her. Yet, it was not for that reason his power pressed against her own display. Against his better judgment he opened his emotions to her. All the pain and sorrow of that day would wash over her in away that perhaps she would finally understand. She would sense the confusion and the conflict inside over the things he felt, that it was genuine, and most of all pure. It was the purity of it all that frightened Kerstan the most. He was not a man to feel such things.

“I left you…”

Kerstan finally let the facade fall. He sighed as the weight of her words pressed against his shoulders in what felt like an unbearable load. His chest tightened as though pressed into a vice that threatened to crush him where he stood. Only hurt and malice seemed to remain in the places where there had been so much innocence between them, and yet it was still the passion he felt for her which pressed through it all. When she finally stopped struggling, Kerstan did not loosen his grip, rather his arms held her closer. She still smelled of the same scent that had been her perfume from the moment she stepped out of the pod. It was not possible for him to fall for her because of the chemicals her body produced, and yet he was completely intoxicated by her presence.

“...”

His mouth opened to say more, but he could not. All he could was hold her as she continued to beat against him with her words.

-------------------------529 years ago-------------------------​

“You will have an answer to all of your questions in time, my dear. Right now you are overwhelmed with how new everything is. I promise to tell you everything.”

His words were smooth as honey, dripping with sweet nectar as he spoke them. He was more concerned about getting her out of the pod and dressed before helping her find out who she was. Kerstan held onto his creation with a delicate touch as though her alabaster skin was fragile porcelain which could break under his heavy hand. His mind was focused on keeping safe and helping her to acclimate to the new world. Even as her legs seemed to buckle under the weight of her own body, Kerstan was reaching to make sure she did not collapse onto the floor. Somehow she was precious to him already, a thing to be treasured and kept. His eyes gave her a displeasing look for complaining about her legs so quickly.

“Do not give up so easily, there are harder things in life than walking,” his words corrected and guided her.

She gripped his arm, and Kerstan gave her a slight tug as she attempted to stand. Most of her weight was bearing down on his arm, and as much as he wanted to use the force to lighten her burden she had to develop her muscles. Kerstan would not be a merciful teacher when it came to her development, but he would always be there for when she fell. His smile reached to his eyes as she demonstrated she could in fact walk with his help, once again in awe of the childlike excitement which came from every new experience and every simple success that Kerstan now took for granted.

Kerstan grinned as the final two questions came from her lips. These were questions that he could start with and answer all of her others. A wave of his hand brought light into the room as they passed into the living area. Expensive rugs and furniture littered the room making it a stark contrast to the cold and academic space of the laboratory. A massive crystalline chandelier hung from the center of the room, lighting the entire area with a dim, yet ever present glow. It was just enough to see without feeling as though one was still in the dark.

“This is where we will live. Everything here was made for you, and you were made for me. My job is to help you learn what it means to live in this world. Your name is Áine, and I am called Kerstan. You are… special. I promise I will show you just how special you are, but first shall we get you settled, Áine?”

His steps guided her past the seating area and back toward another room. Pressing the keypad opened the door with a swoosh sound, and once they had passed through it hissed shut behind them. A large wardrobe was laid out directly in front of them along with a large four poster bed on the right wall. The duvet and sheets were a deep crimson color to reflect the the blood she would spill one day. No nicety was ignored, and not one detail was overlooked. Kerstan smiled as the replica of his mother’s chambers had been recreated, even to the ornate sculpted pillars of the fireplace across the room from her bed.

“This is where you will sleep. All of this is for you. Anything you want or desire, all you have to do is ask, and I will get it for you. You shall want or lack for nothing.”

--------------------------------------------------​

Kerstan had broken the promise he had made for her that day. She had lacked. Because of him she knew what it meant to be alone, truly alone. Her body shook in his chest as the tears fell from her eyes. There was nothing he could say, only the gentle and soft caress of his calloused hand could calm her. As he did the first moment she had woken up, Kerstan placed his rough hand to her fiery hair, running his fingers through it as though no time had passed nor any distance had been put between them. The animosity and tension was still there, but not only was he the only one that knew her, and saw her for who she was, she knew him for who he truly was. His hardened and unfeeling heart was simply a preetnese, a fallacy he wore to appear from looking weak. Their time together had made him open his true self to her, and while he was still a twisted and sadistic man, Kerstan was also just a man.

She shifted, her arms wrapping around herself. Her body language still denying him the forgiveness he longed for, but he knew. 500 years was a long time, and so much time would require perhaps as much to overcome. Kerstan sighed when her eyes met his. He knew he could get lost in the emerald pools that he had made. She was perfection in every way, even Kerstan could not deny it.

'What can words do, Kerstan?'

It was rhetorical perhaps. He listened to every word as each word drove into his heart like a dagger, piercing him to the very core of who he was. Kerstan had done more than abandon her. He made her, molded her, and then cast her aside in anger and hurt. The Sith had known it, but it had been too late.

'I have known a lot of love, all of them a trick, fabricated by what you made me to be. Yet none have been more false than the one you claim to have for me.'

Kerstan froze. False? Was that the impact of his actions? Nothing she had said moved him in as powerful way as those words. The weight of them was so much they crushed him. His legs gave out forcing him to reach for the desk with the hand that been caressing her soft, fiery mane. Kerstan tried to speak, but he could not bring his tongue to form any words.

Nothing.

His lips closed and pressed together in a thin line as she had broken his spirit. Now he was the one crying, albeit a single tear which slipped silently into the forest of his beard. What was there to say?

“False?” The question was quiet. His tone was filled with shock and disbelief. If she had not known it before, Áine would know it now. She was his weakness. “How can you say…”

Kerstan let go of her and turned his back for a moment trying to find the insufficient words to express what it was he felt and knew. When he turned back to look at her his cheeks were stained wet several more tears had fallen from his dark gaze.

“I cannot give any of those nights back to you. I don’t have the words, I do not have the power. My actions stole from you everything that I promised you. I know what I did, Áine, but I also know what I feel. There is nothing false about any of it. I did not know what love was until you. I did not know that the thing I created you for would make me so jealous. What would possibly satisfy your anger and give you peace? Do you want my life? How fitting that the woman I gave life to would be the one to end mine. All it would take would be one kiss… one kiss and I would be nothing but dust in the wind.”

Kerstan reached to pull her into his embrace once more.

“I caused your pain, what must I do to end it?”

 

[Áine]

Yavin 8 | Caves | [member=Kerstan Blackmoore]​

Her power lashed back at his, doing it's best to beat back the feeling of regret and sorrow that he tried to impress on her. Áine didn't want to feel sorry for him, she didn't want his pain and anguish affect her chances to finally feel at peace with what he had done. Why should she care about how he felt? What repercussions could he have possibly known from his actions save for the ones he inflicted on himself? She felt the fire flare up in her chest again. 'Are you really so shallow as to think that I would care how you feel about it all, Kerstan? Your regret is nothing compared to what your actions caused.' Vehmont emerald eyes locked onto his, full of the serious threat that trickled from her lips like poison. 'Stop it.' She commanded of him. 'Before I give you a taste of the pain and sorrow you inflicted on me.' The sharpness of her words took her by surprise, but she did not let it show on her face. Perhaps five hundred years was long enough to break free of the subservient nature he had impressed on her. She could hardly imagine her younger self demanding anything of him in such a way. It felt empowering, but she was still weary of the man behind the silver words he spun. He was dark, and more dangerous than any she had come across. Many times she had seen people fall prey to the twisted promises he offered, to the charming confidence he portrayed, to the mystery behind his eyes. She may have been his weakness and his love, but she wasn't foolish enough to push her luck.

Yet still she fell to the tender touch of an ancient friendship, the warm embrace of family, the sweet caress of a long lost love. With all that she could have said to him laid out plain, Áine waited for his response. The sensitive skin on the tips of her fingers picked up the fevered beat of his heart, she could almost hear it in the heavy weight of silence Kerstan had allowed to stretch between them. When he stumbled back she had no choice but to walk with him, her waist entrapped by the tree trunk arm that snaked around it. Daring to glance up from the ebony furs up to his weathered face, Áine could only watch as his face fell. She felt no remorse as she watched the light in his eyes shatter into a thousand shards of cold and desperate sorrow. As she traced the tear's path down his hollowed cheek part of her felt enraged at the fact that he could think of nothing to say. Did she not deserve at least some acknowledgement? When he finally did speak her crimson brows furrowed as she quickly decided that perhaps he should have remained silent after all. His cracked and broken tone told all. The consequences of his actions had finally sunken in.

Free from his embrace her feet instinctively carried her back a pace or two. Though the swell of tears still bubbled up in the corners of her eyes, her gaze had turned hard. 'How can you question it?' Some of the harshness had returned to her tone as she snapped back. When your entire life revolved around darkness, you saw it in a different light. Darkness came in many different forms, and for the crimson haired woman this was as dark as it got. Every inch of her screamed out to take him in her arms, to comfort him, to wipe away the tears that stained his sun kissed face. Despite all that he had done to her, and all that he deserved to have done to him, Áine wanted nothing more than to wipe away his pain. Through everything she was created to be and all the pain and misery he had caused her, this was the soul time she had ever desired to make it go away. He was as much her weakness as she was his. But this time the darkness was winning out. To see the look of broken pain on his face, to watch the tears spill out over his cheeks, to look into those intense brown eyes and find even a shred of the pain he had once caused her. This was it. The retribution she had been seeking for half a millennia.

________________529 Years Ago________________​

Entranced by his honeyed tone, Áine heeded his words. Despite the ever present urge to bombard him with questions too complicated for her to imagine an answer, she focused solely on the steps her feet took across the cold stone floor. One foot after the other, or was it that one after this one? A laugh that trickled from her throat like honey came in response to his words. 'I can't imagine anything harder than this.' Even as her balance corrected itself her muscles still shook with every step that she took, it was painful holding herself up on weak legs using even weaker arms. The ground pushing up against her supple skin felt sharp and unnatural. A chill from the cracked cave floor made the tips of her toes feel numb, but it was comforting, as was the anchor Kerstan had presented for her to latch onto. Despite her complaints it was getting easier with each step, and the fascination in how on earth she was managing to accomplish it had overtaken her curiosity. The pressure she felt on the arches of her feet, the way her hips tugged with each step her slender legs took, the soft pounding of her heart as she worked her muscles for the first time. Being alive was all so invigorating.

The flicker of soft lighting brought her from the concentration she had put behind the journey from the pod to the living quarters. When she glanced up to come face to face with the lavish decor her jaw dropped in awe. Everything from the floor to the ceiling was a stark contrast to the pallet of grey on grey she had woken in. Áine didn't know what to set her gaze on first. She had to force herself not to break free of Kerstan's tender grasp to touch the silk material of the plush armchairs. Her toes wriggled against the ornately woven carpets, delighting in the soft material that made the cold stone floor seem like hell in comparison. A bright crystal chandelier in the centre of the ceiling caught the light, casting her pale skin in a rainbow of sparkling colours. Though she had lived no more than ten minutes, Áine was sure she would never see anything as beautiful as this. His rough tone drew her eyes from the lavish decor to the charming smile he had worked onto his face. 'Áine.' She smiled at the way her bird like tones lilted. The name sounded fresh on her tongue, as pure and sweet as the new born it came from. 'I like it.'

Though she was craving the chance to ask why he felt she was so special, to understand why she needed to learn to live in the world, Áine kept her mouth shut. Kerstan guided them toward a door made of shining silver metal at the far end of the room. Her fresh face furrowed curiously as pitched tones emitted from the keypad he hurriedly tapped into. As he ushered her through the door Áine finally braved walking alone. Her slender arms slipped from his grasp easily, though they hovered close by for the first tiny shuffles her feet made across the floor. The first thing she was drawn too happened to be the masterfully crafted pillars adorning the fireplace. Kerstan's words fell on deaf ears as she reached out to stroke the textured stone. Lost and confused in the torrent of feelings that ripped through her nubile mind, Áine said nothing. She paced the room slowly, porcelain skin touching as much as it dared as she drank in the surroundings. Emerald eyes were drowned in a confusion she didn't yet have the words to express. It all felt a little too much. As she passed by the ornate four poster bed she sat heavily on it's edge, lithe frame barely making creases in the crimson sheets.

'I don't understand.' Slowly but surely she began to pick apart the brief sentences Kerstan had offered her in explanation. Her eyes narrowed as she glanced down to the slender milk white fingers attached to the ends of her hands. What more could she possibly desire from him, or from anyone? Right now she had no idea who she even was, what purposes she was intended for, why Kerstan had bothered to take her under his wing. Áine pressed her lips together. Her head felt cloudy, like someone had tossed her into a room and forgotten to turn on a light. She was struggling to catch up with something her mind couldn't even comprehend. In one swift motion she drew her legs up close to her chest and rested against the thick wooden pillar that held the curtains up. It was a wonder that someone so small could make themselves look even smaller, but Áine had managed to do just that. She looked like nothing more than a child who had lost it's way in the woods and wound up alone and afraid in the dark.

__________________________________________​

​

When he turned his back on her another wave of anger cascaded across her pale face. Though nothing changed in her expression a scarlet blush formed across the dip in her cheekbones. 'How dare you? Out of all the people I've heard declare their love I've never wanted any to be true as much as I did yours. Even now, five hundred years later, I've still want to believe it when you say you love me. But how can I? How can someone who claims to love me hurt me so badly? You're no different to all the other fools who think they love me.' She spoke with dejection to his back, even through her wave of anger she still couldn't find it to bring back the sharpness in her tone. When the man who had once been her world turned back, Áine felt crushed by the sight of agony in his eyes. His words were even worse. Many a time she had come across a man begging for his life, or his love returned, but never had she seen anything as pitiful as the way Kerstan begged for redemption. His words made her lip wobble and tears spill, which she forced her hand to wipe away quickly. The darkness told her to give in, and she agreed. She would show him what his version of love felt like.

As he moved to reach for her again, she didn't flinch. 'There, there...' She spoke softly as his arms came to rest on her curves. Emerald eyes sought out his as she stepped closer, so close it was hard to tell where his ebony furs ended and her snow white ones began. Willowy fingers sought out the chiselled bones of his jaw line, soft skin stroking gently against the bristles that covered his cheeks. She exerted little effort to bring his face down to hers, to rest his forehead against her own. The sharp green of her eyes disappeared behind milk white lids as she let his scent wash over her. Their faces so close that the heat radiating from his skin washed over her in waves, she could smell the salt from the tears that poured from his eyes, she could feel the soft swell of her lip brush past his barely hairs breadth away from being one. 'Kerstan...' She spoke with a comforting lilt to her sweet tone, at a volume so quiet only they could have been party to the words. It would be so easy, to let the acidic poison trickle over the swell of her lips. So easy to allow the draw of the vibrant crimson it turned them to pull him in.

She knew it would be enough. For twenty nine years they spent together she had denied him anything that indicated she returned his love, not a single kiss or sweet caress. He wouldn't deny her, even he knew death would be the result. Everything about her dark nature screamed that it was so fitting. The first kiss she gave him to be the last he ever received. A sweet tasting, sticky poison that would start with a tingling sensation in his lips. Though her intentions were dark the passing wasn't painful. All the men she had kissed before had continued till their eyes grew heavy, till their bodies felt numb with a pleasant warmth that they couldn't shake, till it spread to their hearts and silenced them eternally. They had always simply slipped away, still and silent as though they had been taken in their sleep. All that remained of the peaceful death the siren offered them was the crimson smile she left upon their lips. Her jaw tensed, bringing her lips dangerously close to grazing his own. Peace. What did he deserve to know of peace? Why should she reward him by offering him such sweet release? Not only would he get what he wanted but he would be free from the knowledge that he had caused her such pain, that he had forced her to believe his love was false.

With the sound of heart pounding heavily against her ears, the venomous green gaze found the light as her eyes drank him in once more. 'No.' The sharp words she spoke snapped the tension in the air, washing his lips in a wave of her sweet breath. Her scarlet curls tumbled across her shoulders as she shook her head, pushing the flat of her palms against his chest to break his grasp as much as her stature would allow. 'Death would be too good to you. You seek forgiveness, for me to ease the guilt of your actions, but I won't.' Áine spoke as her lips pulled away from his, creating a massive gap where there had once been barely enough space to breathe. In that brief moment nothing gave her more pleasure than denying him the one thing that would make it all right again. Whether she had chosen to poison him or given in to the feelings that had stirred in her for half a century, one kiss would have been all it took to wipe away his guilty conscience. 'I have nothing to give you, no words to speak or instructions to follow that will undo what you have done. If your love was true as you claim it to be you wouldn't be searcing me for a way to make it right, you would be searching yourself. You are the one who left me, you are the one who seeks redemption, you are the who carries the blame and the guilt. I owe you nothing. Not answers, not pity, not even death.'

 

[Kerstan Blackmoore]

So much had changed in 500 years, enough that Áine had found the will to command her creator. Kerstan had known the day would come from the very first day she opened her eyes, but he never once thought it would be because of the pain and hurt he caused. He should not have cared, Kerstan was a Sith Lord after all. The man he wanted dead was indeed dead. The weapon had done her job, and yet, Kerstan did care. His still flashed with rage at her rebuke however. Despite what she meant to communicate, Kerstan saw the double standard. At this rate it seemed she wanted to be angry for the sake of holding onto her anger. While it was a powerful weapon, it was also a thing which had been the downfall of many. It was why he had taught her the one thing he held close from his father. One must know when to purr and when to bite.

His eyes narrowed as his tongue began to bite back.

"Stop it? You tell me to feel what you felt, you question as if I have not, and then you tell me to stop when I prove that my heart is far more capable of bleeding than you want to give me credit for."

Kerstan had not turned his back on her out of rage or displeasure. His pride did not wish to allow her to see the impact her words had made. How much he longed for death now, knowing the woman he had made, the one he had allowed himself to love, only wished for him to be broken. Yes, it was the coward's way, but what was left for Kerstan to remain strong for? Why should he pursue the throne his father had so long ago abandoned if the words of one woman had the power to make his life seem so vain and empty. Many years of his life had been devoted to her, making her, teaching her, guiding her. He had been patient knowing that his revenge would be worth the investment. Kerstan had never asked to fall in love with the assassin, nor had she ever asked for his love in return. Both of them were victims of their nature, and both had caused pain because of it. Kerstan would never be able to name his exact sin. Perhaps there were too many, but Kerstan knew his pride and envy had caused the pain which led to this moment.

"How can I question it? How can I question whether you could even see my love as anything else but true. I can, and I will, because your pain makes it so. I could never have hurt you so deeply if I had not had loved you the same. That is the danger of love. Those we love the most, and those who love us the most in return, have the power to cause the most pain."

He could not say it in any other way than as a fact. It was a hard lesson Kerstan had learned, but it was the truth.

-------------------------529 years ago-------------------------​

​

"Perhaps you cannot imagine anything more difficult now, but I promise you the one thing about life which is always consistent is that there is always a challenge in front of us. You will conquer this one only to be presented with another, and another. Resilience is the best trait you can develop. I will make you resilient."

His words were matter of fact. Even now Kerstan took his role as guide and teacher seriously. The world outside the caves he had lavishly created for Áine would be cruel to her, but it would not defeat her. Kerstan would not allow for her to be the weak vessel she would appear to be. Her strength would never be physical, but rather her resolve and inner person would be where her strength was held. His job was to guide her through the early challenges ever person faced. There would be so many firsts for her in the coming weeks that life was going to seem a drain after a time. This was her childhood, and infant in the form of a fully developed woman. Kerstan did not have a grid for the issue that may cause, but he was determined to walk her through them all. She had to learn to live in his world if she was ever going to kill in it.

Once again her eyes were wide at the lavish and opulent arrangements Kerstan had made for the fiery haired woman. Each time her emerald eyes lit up, Kerstan found himself that much more endeared to her. His heart was more open to her than he realized, something rest there he did not understand. This made her a mystery to him despite the fact she was his creation. He would know why. Kerstan would use their time together to unravel the mystery of his own feelings, and what it was that Áine seemed to stir within him. He had been cautious enough to ensure she could never use her pheromones to seduce him, so the fact he felt drawn to her surprised him. This was not supposed to be.

It was hard to let go of her as she made her way to the bed. Kerstan wanted to treat her as if she was made of porcelain and would break, but he knew that would only stunt her growth. His arm would be close to catch her if he needed to, but he allowed the distance for her sake. The smile on his face faded slightly at the realization he would have to let her go one day. He quickly pushed the thoughts aside, and returned his gaze to the green eyes he had spent months making so perfect. A smirk pulled on the corner of his mouth once more as he moved to sit beside her on the bed.

"You will. One day very soon you will want something, and I will get it for you. There is so much to explain, and I am hesitant because I do not want to overwhelm you. You just woke up, you have walked on your own for the first time. All of your senses have been overloaded in just the past several minutes. How much do I dare press today when you haven't even had anything to eat yet? That will be another first. I know you want answers, so perhaps we start with one I have not given yet. My name is Kerstan, and you are my creation."

--------------------------------------------------​

​

She was going to kiss him. As her lips neared his Kerstan could only think back to that first day when she could barely walk and he had been her anchor. Today he was simply going to be one of her victims, and as her hot breath danced across his lips, Kerstan closed his eyes and welcomed the inevitable.

It did not come.

His punishment would be to live with the guilt and the knowledge of what his abandonment had caused. It was cruel in a way, yet so very fitting. She was right, death would be too good for him. There was nothing in what he had done that should allow him to get away with something so easy. Kerstan had taken 500 years of her life up to this moment, and he deserved at least the same. He knew he could not give her a single day back to her. Even though he had brought her to life, he could not add to it. Her words were the sharp daggers they needed to be. However there was one thing he could not bring himself to agree with. Maybe she was right and the forgiveness he sought was to bring a salve to his own guilt. Still as Kerstan opened his eyes and drew in the shock of the abrupt change in the atmosphere in the room. It made no sense to try and fight to keep hold of her. Instead Kerstan listened to her. In some ways she was innocent to the world as the day she was born. She did not understand.

"I am not looking for you to erase anything, Áine," he said as he motioned toward the living space. It was clear this was going to take a while, and Kerstan was tired of standing, and he could only imagine she was as well. The doors were locked behind her, and Kerstan had no intention of letting them free anytime soon. "I have to live with what I caused, but the price of what will you bring you peace is not something I can name. I cannot give you those years back. All I can do is give you the remainder of what I have left. I can spend at least another 500 years trying to make things right, but it is a price you have to set."

A wave of his hand brought a cushioned chair just behind his legs just before Kerstan sat down. Another wave of his hand offered Áine a place to sit as well.

"I am not looking for your pitty. I do not need you to feel sorry for me, but surely you have given thought to what you would demand of me? I do not seek your demands simply so I can pay them and be done. I seek your demands because I..." Kerstan paused as his hand went to his head. His next words needed to be different. He kept saying that he loved her, and she continued to reject the notion. Yet, how was he supposed to demonstrate the truth of his words if she would not tell him how? When his hand fell back to the arm of the chair his eyes found hers across the distance she had made for them. Despite the fact it was a few feet, it felt wider. It was as though a massive schism had broken open between them, a schism Kerstan could not find a way to cross. "I remember it all. Your first breath, the way your hair felt as it passed through my fingers. I helped you into your room, afraid that if I let go you would shatter and crack like some porcelain doll. That day, you changed something about me, I spent 29 years trying to figure out what it was. I formed you, fashioned you, and I knew everything about you. Yet there has always been this power you have held over me. I do not seek your demands because I want you to make me feel less guilty. I want to know because I cannot bear to see you in pain, and the fact I caused it only makes it worse."

"If I could erase it all, go back and do it differently, I would. The fact I cannot... I have been coming back here every year since that day... on that exact day... never knowing what to expect or what to find. I am sorry for what I stole, I am sorry for what I caused, I am sorry I did not find you sooner. I am sorry that you now cannot trust me when I say that I love you. It was my actions that did this, and if you will let me... my actions will paint you a different picture, even if it takes me another 500 years to do so."

 

[Áine]

Yavin 8 | Caves | [member=Kerstan Blackmoore]​

The last time Kerstan raised his voice to her in such a manner had been the last day she ever saw him. Without even realising she found her body flinching, her feet automatically carrying her back a pace or two from the shadow of his frame. Anger flashed in his eyes, as bright as the sun and almost as hot, and it scared her. For a moment or two she simply stared back at him, partly in defiance and partly out of pure shock. Her emerald eyes seemed to have widened, drawing in as much of the dim light as they could. All they could project was the timidness his tone had caused her to feel. The only way she knew how to react was with the soft pout of her lips as she drew her arms in to her chest to shrink her frame. 'I know what your heart is capable of.' Áine finally found the courage to speak the words, though they were barely a whisper in comparison to his sharp tone. 'I don't want to feel how you felt. I want you to feel how I felt. Do you think what you feel holds a candle to what you put me through? Where did you run to when you left me? What grandeur did you hide behind? What lavish things did you buy yourself? What women did you indulge in? What fancies did you afford yourself to sate the wound? You had distractions. I had nothing but time. Do you ever think about how long it took for someone to decide to go to Yavin 8 on a whim? I can see what you think. I'm not hysterical. I've just had a long damn time to think about it.' Though the remnants of surprise and fear still held true in her eyes, she still found the words came freely.

With her refusal to give him peace still rattling her heart beat, and the quickly dissipating tension that came with their sudden closeness, Áine felt drained. No activity she had ever taken part in had been as exhausting as this was. Perhaps that was the price you paid for keeping your emotions locked away for five hundred years. Áine almost felt like the shell of the woman she was when she first stepped on Yavin 8. All she had expected was to spend another long and lonely night within the four walls of the place she had once called home. Instead she had been greeted with a torrent of emotion that had completely taken her by surprise, despite having had five hundred years to build up the strength and courage to accomplish it. So, she was rather pleased to see Kerstan gesture toward their living quarters with one hand. If he was going to force her to stay till they had resolved the issue she at least wanted to be comfortable. In the heat of their argument Áine had forgotten how cold it was in the caves. Suppressing a shiver that travelled the length of her spine, a lazy flick of her wrist saw a spark of red flame burst out across the stone fire place. A fully fledged fire roared to life in the time it took for her to cross the room to the chair he offered out. For such a slender woman, she sat down heavily on the crushed crimson armchair. Despite extreme lack of use over the years, it was still just as soft as she remembered.

This time it was Áine's turn to be speechless. Much like she had done the first day she found her legs folding up toward her chest, slender arms wrapping around them to bring them close. She choked back the tears, but was quickly betrayed by the wobble of her crimson lip that opened up the flood gates. Thick vermilion locks were lost in the thick white furs as she buried her head into her knees. Áine played the part of sorrow well, it was her last form of defence if she ever found herself in sticky situation there was no escape from, but this time it wasn't an act. This time the crushing guilt of his words weighed heavy on her mind, and the realisation of how hard the past five hundred years had been was quickly catching up. This time there was no stopping the raw emotion that poured from her soul, and there was no repairing the dam she had slowly built over five hundred years to hold it back. Áine couldn't decide whether to feel angry that he had somehow managed to tear away the desire for revenge or complete and utter sorrow for all the years they had lost together. Their relationship had started out as something so pure and innocent, beautiful if you looked at it in the right light, but now...

Now there was nothing but malice on her part, and the heavy cloud of sorrow that had hung over them both for too many years to count. What once had been perfect, a relationship that was meant to stand the test of time and hardship, was now broken. Shattered like the fine porcelain he had described her as. His words might have pieced together the shards, but the cracks still remained. As deformed and impure as the darkness they both laid claim too. In truth Áine had no idea how to repair them. No idea how to bring them back to that day when everything was fresh and new, when she knew nothing of the actions that left the hideous scars of pain across her heart. It pained her to know, and she was sure it would pain him too know too, that the only ugly thing about her was the damage he had done. But for now, she was done causing him pain. His suffering caused her just as much torment as hers did him, though she was still loathed to allow him to see it. Still, she had never felt so frustrated in her entire life. All she wanted to do was open her mouth and let words of forgiveness over take the tense silence that built up between them, but nothing came.

________________529 Years Ago________________​

For some reason she felt the desire to be close, and she had little will power to fight the most basic of urges just yet. Áine allowed her frame to move, graceful in even the smallest of motions her body made. In less than a second she found herself resting snugly against his thick shoulder, blood red hair casting itself wildly over his raven suit. 'Kerstan.' She spoke simply as though attempting to commit it to memory, timid voice barely managing to reach the distance from her lips to his ears. Perfectly painted fingernails reached out to gently stroke the skin on his hand hand. This felt natural. Unlike walking Áine didn't have to concentrate on the elegant patterns her almond shaped nails traced out across his skin, they simply happened. Perhaps this was her true purpose? To be close to him? Though she finally had his name, it did nothing to answer the torrent of questions still pouring through her mind. In fact he had only seemed to spin a further air of mystery to her entire existence. With a soft sigh she finally accepted that all would come to light soon, though she still struggled to find any words that wouldn't set her curiosity ablaze again. What did distract her was the mention of food. Of course, she wasn't entirely sure what it was but her stomach seemed to have a good idea. With an eager smile, and with a surprising amount of vigour for someone who seconds ago had the weight of what it meant to be alive on her shoulders, Áine glanced up at Kerstan. 'What are we going to eat?'

Now, with something to distract her from the thundering questions that plagued her, Áine decided to find something to replace the silk material that clung to every inch of her skin. Rather reluctantly, she pulled herself away from Kerstan and slipped from the side of the bed. Her feet felt more steady now that they knew what they were doing, but she still took her time as she made her slow way across the carpeted floors. When they'd first entered the room she saw a closet full of things that looked similar to what she was already wearing, perhaps she'd find something suitable in there. With little regard for the temperature she stripped away the robe, letting it land in a crumpled heap on the floor as she took her time slowly inspecting each cascade of brightly coloured material at her disposal. The first thing to catch her eye was as red as the crimson locks she boasted on her head, as red as the tempting rose of her lips. With only a slight amount of difficulty, her hands freed the dress from the hanger and swung the material out to hold against her body. Her brows furrowed for a brief moment as her mind tried to figure out how to put it on, how it was different from the simple robe that she had only needed to slip her arms into. Her first thought was to ask Kerstan, but already the young experiment had found a stubborn streak. She wanted to get it right on her own.

After a painful age, she managed to get the dress to sit right on her sculpted curves. Emerald green eyes alive with excitement, she twirled slowly on the spot for the benefit of her creator. Though she herself found marvel in the way the material caught the breeze and billowed around her alabaster legs. 'Did I do this right?' She questioned him in a genuinely curious tone. All she could see where flashes of skin as her legs peaked from behind bright vermilion silk. 'How do I look?' When she finally came to stop she looked plainly at Kerstan with a smile that pressed soft dimples into her cheeks.

__________________________________________​

A war between two halves raged inside her. One was screaming to forgive him, to tell him exactly why she had felt so crushed by his sudden departure, to finally express the love she had kept from him in their short time together. The other half was livid at the idea, furious that she would allow his words to sooth the fire she had spent half a millennia cultivating. Furious that she would put herself in a situation where she could be hurt again. He was the first and only time she had allowed herself to be hurt. No matter how she had tried to sate the wound he left behind in her soul, nothing could make her forget it. Over the years it had simply been buried, tucked away in the corners of her mind and only permitted to resurface when she returned to the caves they now stood in. This was how she had managed to keep herself together in his absence, how she had managed to survive. Now he wanted a chance to put her in that position again? 'Kerstan, I-...' Finally, the fiery haired woman looked up from the furs she had buried herself into. 'I don't know what to say. I don't know how to let myself be vulnerable. How can I knowingly put myself into a situation where there's the potential to feel such pain again?'

Her fingers quickly wiped the streaks from her porceline face, which by now was splotched with crimson patches where her tears had fallen. 'Why should I bother with love if it hurts this much?' Her shuddering lungs did their best to draw in a cooling breathe of air. 'Who is to say that in ten years or even a hundred that you won't feel the same way you did back then? I can only be what you made me to be. I can only do what you taught me. That is who I was and who I shall forever be. Can you accept me this way? As the thing you moulded me into? Where do I find the trust to believe your words when all the promises you made have broken?' Once again she cut her words off, pressing her full crimson lips into a thin line as she lent back into the arm chair. Before the silence could creep back, Áine allowed her head to fall listlessly in his direction. Her emerald gaze, shimmering with tears that clung to her thick eyelashes, found the weathered face of her creator. For some reason, there was a smile on her face. Perhaps it was through sheer mental exhaustion, or perhaps it was because the realisation was sickeningly ironic. 'I come back here every year too.'

Áine could bare to admit it to his face, so as the words tumbled from her lips she turned her eyes up to the crystalline chandelier she had been so amazed with on her first day out of the pod. 'It took me a couple of years to find the button that opened the cave door though.' For the first time since they'd reunited, Áine laughed. It was sugary and inviting, pouring from her lips like honey from a jar, but there was a hint of sorrow to it. Just a hint of the pain she felt recalling the memory. 'I was naive enough to think you would be there too. Every year. But-...' She paused to laugh again, rather than it being filled with sweet sorrow it seemed she was genuinely amused. '...Now I see. You return on the day you left, and I was returning on the day I found you gone.' After all these years it had taken sheer coincidence for them to meet again. If Áine hadn't been required to attend an important engagement in a few days time, she would have returned then instead, and she would have missed Kerstan entirely. Just like she had been doing for the past five hundred years. She giggled again, but it trailed off into a deep sigh that saw her brows furrow and leave soft creases between them.

Was she lucky for such a coincidence occurring? Or was this just another reason for Áine to have a deep hatred for the hand life seemed to deal her? She couldn't decide whether to thank the man who had invited her to dine on that particular evening, or kill him. Two willow fingers reached out to smooth her crimson brows gently. Her face seemed to try its best to wear an expression of confusion, but all it could manage was the thoughtful look that had been there since Kerstan's short speech. 'In truth, I don't know how I can open my heart to you again. I don't know how to let you in. I can't tell you what will fix it because I don't know.' Once upon a time she had looked to him for all the answers. Once upon a time she had relied on him to tell her how to walk, how to eat, how to dress... Now she relied on him for more. He needed to know her intimately, to know her inside and out as he had boldly claimed so many times over. His words had been the balm that soothed the raging wound he'd left behind, but would his actions be the stitches that finally sewed it together? Would they prove to mend the cracks in his creation? To return her to that state of perfection he was so fond of referring to her as?

She drew her gaze from the ceiling to Kerstan once again. It was a long while before she decided to speak, instead taking the time to map each sun kissed wrinkle pressed into his face. There was nothing in her that could explain how one could miss a face so much, but as she lost herself in the deep pools of brown turned ebony by the dim light, she couldn't deny the emotion. Everything about it was familiar, the most familiar she had ever been with anything in her entire life. It was home, comfort, warmth, safety... It was the only love she'd ever known. As she looked up on his face she wanted desperately to be able to mend the pain behind it, the pain she knew was caused by her own torment, but she didn't know how. It was only time she had felt genuinely helpless, powerless to rely on herself as she had done for so many years. When she spoke her voice was quiet and broken, nothing like the subtly confident words she had projected many times before. The commanding tone she had once used had melted entirely into a softly pleading cry, a true reflection of what she had been the first day she had stepped out of the pod. Naive, innocent, powerless. 'Help me.'

 

[Kerstan Blackmoore]

Yavin 8 | Caves | w. [member="Áine"]
--------------------------------------------------
"Hell hath no fury than a woman scorned."


Kerstan rubbed his temples. His head was beginning to hurt with all of the up and down of every emotion he was feeling had sent him on a roller coaster of emotions he did not think he was capable of feeling. Yes, he knew she was able to read him, she even was right about knowing what his heart was capable of. There was only one person in his life he could never lie to, and Áine was that person. She knew. He sighed as his eyes floated back up to the piercing emerald gaze of the woman across from him. It was not fair how she could look so pristine and yet harbor the anger he could feel emanating off of her. “I went to find my grandfather… he…” Kerstan paused knowing the answer wasn’t going to please her, but he was being honest. “He is the one who taught me how to… make things, make you…”

There were many questions to answer tossed at him all at once, but Kerstan was certain she did not want the answers to all of them. Every question was thrown his way as if she stabbed him in the heart and pulled it out just to stab him in the heart over and over again with it. A long sigh escaped his lips. There was going to be no end to the amount of pain he felt every time he looked at her, and the weight of the guilt which pressed against his chest every time she looked at him.

Áine looked at him, this time with nothing to say. Kerstan had nothing to say as well. He shifted in his chair a few times as words came to his tongue only to leave the moment he tried to speak. She was right, and it hurt. There was nothing he could say to remove her pain, and there was nothing she was going to say to remove the guilt. She was also right that he could not be trusted. Kerstan would not trust him. Yet nothing changed how he felt about her, and he could tell by everything she said the conflict inside her was pulling her in two different directions.

-------------------------529 years ago-------------------------​

A smile involuntarily spread across his face when Áine tried his name on her tongue. Something about hearing it on her voice elicited excitement from him. The lazy patterns she traced so naturally on the top of his hand made him understand just how successful he had been. He knew it was happening, the one thing Kerstan should not allow. From the moment she opened her eyes, Kerstan could feel the attachment forming. He was not supposed to become attached, but her perfection and innocence was too much to guard against. Kerstan was attracted to all things perfect.

She wanted to know what they were going to eat. WIth that he simply waved his hand and watched as a tray of fine cheeses, meats, and wine, floated in their direction. With a smile on his face, he looked at the emerald eyes of the woman. “Something I should not start you on?”

He watched as her eyes fell on a dress, crimson the same color as the sheets which were on her bed. Somehow and so early it seemed she had a color she was drawn to. It was interesting how the developing mind worked. Kerstan watched as the robe fell from her body and Áine began to fumble with the dress. Ever part of him wanted to help her put the dress on, but she needed to learn how to do this on her own. The struggle which she was going through was exactly what she needed in order to come out stronger. She needed to be strong.

Kerstan simply nodded when she asked if she had done it correctly. In truth she had made him speechless for what would be the first of many times. His eye could not pull themselves away from the way the cloth fell on her body, or how it hugged her curves. Every part of the dress accentuated everything about her form which Kerstan had taken care in creating. Kerstan was distracted.

“Uh… you look… you’re amazing.”

--------------------------------------------------​

“I can’t ask you to be vulnerable again. I can’t make you trust again. I know who you are, and I know what you are meant to do.”

That was not an answer to her question. She wanted to know how she could possibly know that he would not leave her behind again. Kerstan had answer, but he was afraid that she would not like to hear it. The way she looked at him, and the conflict he felt knowing that she wanted to hate him and forgive him at the same time. He still looked at her as though there was something to say that he was not, but the words did not want to come. All he could do was listen to everything she said.

Every word she said was true. Every question she asked was fair. A small chuckle escaped his lips as she talked about the door. Two years. How long had it been until someone found her? Her questions continued to press against him, until finally Kerstan could no longer take it. The weight of all the possibilities of his actions pressed against him even more. The irony they were missing each other by days for almost a half millennium years made Kerstan laugh.

“Of all the things in the galaxy and this is why we missed each other.”

Kerstan was not trying to avoid all of her questions, he just didn’t know what to do. She was wanting to know how she could possibly bring herself back to a place that he had broken for her. She would never be naive or innocent again, something Kerstan had destroyed. He had never made her to be that way, but from the moment she had woken up he wanted to keep her that way. It was where he had failed her. In trying to keep her from what she truly was, he had ruined her. There was only one way forward, and it was the answer to all of her questions. It only required two things, honesty and vulnerability. Áine was not the one who had to be vulnerable, however, it was Kerstan.

“I know I did the wrong thing, believe me. I used to wait outside the door, too afraid to walk back in. You were likely behind the door the entire time, but what was I going to say? All I know is this, I tried to make you something you were not in my own mind. I see you, Áine I know what you are, who you are, and yes, I accept that."

There was no pretense in his voice. He was no longer trying to win her over with an emotional appeal. This was the truth, and Kerstan knew that had to open his heart. She had to see him, truly see him. He stood from his chair, and walked the distance which separated them. His calloused hand reached down to her the fiery locks on her head as he began to caress them as he did the day she woke up. His gaze looked down on hers. As her plea for help had come from her voice, it was written in her eyes.

“No more promises that I cannot keep, my sweet. I was jealous and I left because I wanted you to be mine and only mine. I still want you to be mine, nothing has changed in regards to how I feel or what I want.”

Kerstan’s calloused hand came down to her porcelain cheek. It was smooth and perfect. Time had not aged her at all, a trait he wished was the same for him. It was time to risk everything. Words were one thing, but actions another. Kerstan dropped to a knee and looked the fiery haired assassin in the eyes as a soft smile tugged at his lips.

“Don’t be vulnerable, don’t let me in. Make me earn it, but let me do this.”

Without warning, his lips pressed to hers. If she wanted to know that nothing had changed, if she wanted to know that he could accept her for who she was, Kerstan was going to have to show her. Áine may have been broken, but she was still perfection. She may have been torn on whether to forgive him or not, but Kerstan knew part of her wanted to. His offer in one swift motion was simple. All of him for everything she was and was made to be.