Dathomirian Holidays [Circe/Fabula] (COMPLETE)

[Onrai]

You think I intend to use you, don't you? Exploit you for what you can do to me? But I won't, and here's the reason why...

A long time ago, I was a slave. I was a prisoner in the Hutt palace of some overweight slob who used me as nothing more than an object. I was to dance for him, to serve him his meals, etcetera. One of my friends came up with an escape plan, something we'd use to get out of the palace and onto another world. Well, my master found out, and as punishment for planning to escape, he beat me to within an inch of my life. While I was busy recovering, my friend put our plan into action and successfully escaped, leaving me there to bear the brunt of my master's anger. Oh, I would eventually escape, after suffering several more years of physical and sexual abuse... but my friend harmed me in a way no other person truly could.

The illusionist sighed, a knife forming in her hand - a perfect illusion of the knife she used to kill her master. I learned that you can never truly trust in your friends, but I also learned something else. I learned that betrayal of those you hold close is something that can change them for the rest of their lives, and not necessarily for the better. And since then, I have sworn to always stand by anyone who considers me a friend.

Circe looked over at Fabula, giving her a slightly cheesy grin. That's how a tiny alliance can change things. But this time, I'd like things to be for the better.

 

[Fabula Caromed]

Well, as far as stories go, that was straight and to the point. Fabula listened to the whole thing as impassively as possible. Nodding along with everything she said but never once interrupting. When the green woman finished, she smiled and gave a few quiet claps. "A story is always worth hearing. Learning from another's life - or death - should never be ignored, no matter how trivial the lesson."

Crossing her arms, Fabula cleared her throat. "And now, I'd like to tell you a story of my own." She took a deep breath, closed her eyes, and tried to recall everything she'd learned about her original self. "Once, many years ago, there was a Nightsister of such power that she was able to take the whole of Dathomir under her control. The Book of Law and the Book of Shadows were merged, becoming one truth. With the world conquered, she had nothing left to do but attempt the same with the entire galaxy. To this end, she had many children, the youngest of which were twin sisters. One Warrior, one Witch."

Things got a bit sketchy from there. She'd have to embellish a little. "The Witch was just as power-hungry as her mother. She needed the feeling of control that came with rulership. She mastered lies, spells, and planning. She learned everything there was to learn...and in the end she died, betrayed by her own mother. The ancient Nightsister assimilated her daughter's power into her own, and became stronger for it."

And now for the other twin, Fabula. "The Warrior pursued power, but not the intangible influence and control that her sister sought. Instead, she hunted for the strongest creatures, the most unapproachable warriors in the galaxy. She fought them all, and became stronger for it. She mastered her heart, rather than trying to master the hearts of others. In the end, her mother betrayed her, too."

Fabula smiled. "But she died happy. She had accomplished all that she had wanted. She didn't fall into the trap of desire, of greed. The power she sought was quantifiable, tangible." A bit of conjecture, based on how Fabs would feel in that situation. "She died in the arms of her lover, after a hard-fought battle. In her eyes, there could be no greater death. Her life was complete."

Resting back against the dead rancor behind her, the Warrior looked at her Witchy companion. "Desire is a dangerous path. It's far too easy to lose your footing, and fall into unattainable greed."

 

[Onrai]

Circe smiled, astutely listening to the story and noting the distinct parallels between herself, Fabula, and the twin sisters in the story.

This story can be taken metaphorically and literally... In both cases, I sense the warrior is you, though asking how you are still alive will be part of a later conversation. Metaphorically, the witch is me.

She sighed, but felt content for the time being.

We have a lot to work on together... sister.

 

[Fabula Caromed]

Fabs just grinned, shaking her head. "And I think you're reading far too much into it. This was history, and also allegory. It would be impossible for the two of us to have any relation to the characters in the story." Very specifically the two of them. "Take it for what it is: a warning, and some advice. Occasionally it's better to look at your life and your desires, and judge their value."

Being called "sister" wasn't at all uncommon. Nightsisters, after all. Still, after telling the story of her own history with the names filed off, it was a little odd for someone to claim to be her sister. Her only real sister was Kristin, and she was as dead as Fabula was. Er...deader? Clones made everything so confusing. Distract yourself. "Well, of course. An Initiate's work is never done," she responded with a slight bow of her head.

 

[Onrai]

Circe could only nod, her suspicion still lingering on.

So... What do you do for fun around here, might I ask?

The inevitable Zeltron-type question came up. There had to be something fun to do around here... A party, a cantina, even some games to play.

 

[Fabula Caromed]

Fabula blinked. "What do I do?" The answer to that question probably should've been self-evident. Fabula stood up, turned around, and indicated towards the dead rancor. "That's what I do. I don't think that's what you'd be interested in, though." She shrugged. "I've come to find that most squishy little Witches don't like to have broken ribs and eleven-inch claw wounds."

That didn't provide any useful information to Circe, of course. Fabula endeavored to fix her mistake. "For the rest of the Nightsisters most of them don't understand the meaning of the word 'fun.' They tend to think that beating on helpless slave-wretches and plotting to usurp each other's power counts as downtime. The males normally have a better grasp on it. They work hard, but they play harder. I think they've got some interesting ball games going on in their dung-village."

 

[Onrai]

You'd be surprised at the kind of stuff I'm into... Circe gave a soft chuckle. It would be interesting to find a powerful rancor and either kill it or conquer its mind.

Her mind shifted to the thought of having fun with some of the male slaves, but then she remembered that it would probably turn into an unwelcome sex fest if a beautiful woman like herself suddenly appeared in the group of sexually-repressed men.

Perhaps I can find a pet among the woods.

 

[Fabula Caromed]

Fabula shrugged. "Most of the 'pets' you'll find in the woods require a rather specific spell to tame. And when untamed, they tend to do stuff like that." She pointed to the still-broken tree limbs she was smashed through earlier. "There's a reason I come out here. The only thing to do is train, or meditate, or oppress men. The male village is more entertaining, but it's just all so dull."

She smiled and looked up into the canopy of the forest above her, letting her head fall back, her hair spread out behind her. With a calm sigh, Fabula took a deep breath just to feel the lives of the forest, their tiny little imprints on the Force. They supported the world, lifted it up with their spirits...but at the same time, they relied on it, leaned on it to keep living. "Out here," she began, "the world is raw. Wild or powerful, take your pick. Everything is untamed by routine and practice and religion."

Her hands fell down to her sides, relaxed in a kind of standing meditation. Not overt, but just enough to let her feel the trees around her, the sky above her, the land beneath her feet. "Out here, we find the Force in its most primal state. Hunger, fear, and power. None of the distortions like jealousy or greed or deception you'll find back with the Clans. Here, everything is pure. Power, and nothing more."

Fabs realized what she was doing, recoiled, and tried to hide within her own arms again. "I mean...well...it's a good place to lose yourself."

 

[Onrai]

Wild...

A smile came to Circe's lips as she herself opened up to the Force, letting her feel everything around her. It was like the Force was a blanket, caressing her body and keeping her relaxed.

You were showing me something before you reengaged shy mode... What was it?

 

[Fabula Caromed]

Shut up, Fabula. You were babbling again. "N-nothing. I think I finished."

She was such a geek. Everything she did came in hot or cold. Either she knew nothing and hated herself for trying, or she knew everything and couldn't wait to tell you about it. Curled up inside herself in an attempt to disappear, Fabs still didn't stop to consider she was standing just a couple of feet away from one of the most majestic things on the planet that she had killed with her bare hands. She didn't have a reason to be upset.

If she had considered that, it might have upset her more. Change the subject, stupid girl. "Was there something you wanted me to show you? I mean, I'm new here too, but maybe I could fake it."

 

[Onrai]

Well, now that you mention it... Circe started to recall images, holos she had seen of Nightsisters.

Why do these Nightsisters not have the pale skin and bruised blood vessels of the original clan?

 

[Fabula Caromed]

That was an interesting question. "I'm most definitely not a scholar, or a biologist, or even a genealogist. Not my area of expertise." Good job with the disclaimer, stupid girl. Fabula sighed at her own reflexive put-down and tried again to speak without interrupting in order to berate herself. "I think it has something to do with evolution. If you look really, really far back in the archives, there's just a certain point at which the Dark Side stopped having a visual effect."

Fabs shrugged and looked at her own skin. "Maybe we just grew out of it. There could easily be a more mystical reason, but I think it's just something that our bodies learned to resist as we got older, as a culture and as a species."

 

[Onrai]

Excellent observation, Fab.

Circe gave a girlish giggle at the nickname.

Maybe since Dark-sided females wish to be irresistibly attractive, the Dark Side lets them keep their appearance. Or maybe the Force was just sick and tired of making people look ugly or damaged.

 

[Fabula Caromed]

Fabula kind of grunted when she heard the words "irresistibly attractive" and crossed her arms under her inhumanly massive boobs. "I don't know about that. I think I'd prefer being a beanpole. Certain baggage tends to get in the way." Now now, stupid girl. Surely those monstrous things come in handy when you're drowning, or need an impromptu blast vest.

Her self-snarking lasted about as long as normal. Fabs side again and slumped a bit. "Anyway. That's all just conjecture. I don't think anyone really knows, and I certainly don't. Having memory-transplanted textbooks isn't the same thing as true sagaciousness." A moment of inspiration struck her, and she found herself smiling again. "The wise woman knows only that she knows nothing."

 

[Onrai]

Come now... The first rule about men is that they typically consider a woman's appearance before her mind. And with yours, every humanoid in the galaxy will do whatever you tell them to do, so long as you keep them thinking about your chest.

Circe was starting to devolve a bit into humor, her conversation skills growing a bit more laughable.

You totally ripped that off from a Cerean philosopher...

Circe found herself laughing hard at Fabula's last comment. She put an arm over the woman's shoulder, laughing and showing her perfect smile like a socialite who'd been doing this for years.

You'd love my mother. She was the best mom a girl like me could have!

 

[Fabula Caromed]

Fabula couldn't help but smile, just for a moment. Whether it was from Circe's steadily more casual tone or from the new direction of the conversation, she didn't really care. Smiling was important. "I think my mother is just fine. She's been supportive and helped me through the trauma of waking up with the...issues I've had." Fabula was doing everything in her power to leave out important words, like "Petra Cavataio" or "leader of the Nightsisters." The more time she could buy without drawing attention to herself, the better. If there was one thing Fabs hated, it was being the center of attention she felt she didn't deserve. Which, honestly, was most attention.

She tried to start walking away, but didn't go far outside Circe's range of comfort. The little witch-knight wanted to get away from the dead rancor, but her subconscious refused to let her lead. "It doesn't hurt that she's helped me grasp my place in the Nightsisters. She's even been supportive of my being a little bit of an outsider." Oddly supportive, actually. The same way that Nightsisters tended to get when they wanted something without anyone knowing it.

 

[Onrai]

My mother was really the supporting pillar of my life when I was living on Falleen. She kept things fun and exciting, unlike my dad, who was stoic as a statue. She also taught me plenty of useful skills.

Circe walked along with Fabula, then paused for a moment.

I noticed you're trying to be a bit privy and whatnot... I mean, I don't even know your last name. Is it embarrassing? Do you think I'll treat you differently just because of whoever your mother is? She sighed for a single second. My mother was a partier on a world of cold, sinister, emotionless reptomammals. I was treated differently as a child both because of my mother and because I looked different from my fellow classmates. I didn't have any friends back then...

At this moment, Circe took her hands and placed them gently on Fabula's shoulders, looking into her eyes with a somber expression. I'm not going to treat others the way I was treated. If you tell me your last name, and I know it's obviously quite important to you, I'm not going to run away in fear, or stand on awe, or kiss the ground you stand on, or otherwise treat you differently. If you don't want to tell me, I'm not going to force you... In fact, I'll probably say something to go drastically off topic.

 

[Fabula Caromed]

One of the only ways that Fabula had known physical contact in the few short days of her "life" had been violence. While there were quite a few people who had touched her otherwise, it had mostly been handshakes, or holding hands during ritual spells. The only one who had hugged her had been Petra. Naturally, all physical contact made her feel a little antsy.

All she really did was wince, though. She didn't say anything about it, and her grumble was more for the topic of conversation than anything. "My name is Fabula Cavataio. My mother is Petra Cavataio, Clan Mother of the Nightsisters." She harrumphed and pulled back a little. "Does that satisfy your curiosity? Mommy Dearest is the Clan Mother. I don't like drawing attention to it."

She was already the biggest failure of the Nightsisters. Adding to that the part where she was also the biggest failure of Petra wasn't something she enjoyed doing every time. Fabula sighed and pulled her hair back over her shoulders. "Parentage means little here. It's pointless to bring it up." Especially when you're a freakish, unnatural clone of a long-dead woman who's been carbon-frozen for five years while your mother's droids program your brain with encyclopedia-like knowledge of common life skills in an attempt to make you a functioning adult.

 

[Onrai]

I can understand your reasoning for not saying anything. Circe's empathetic side was beginning to show. I'm guessing she puts a lot of pressure on you, expecting you to perform better than the rest of the crowd.

The hybrid illusionist's arm both gently wrapped around Fabula in a surprisingly motherly hug. You're right. You are your own independent woman. How you train and what you succeed at doesn't count on what your mother's position in the Nightsisters is.

The wincing caught her off guard, and she immediately relaxed her tender grip. You're wincing, like you think I'm going to try and crush the life out of you. Why? I've hardly a reason to do anything to a fellow sister like yourself...

 

[Fabula Caromed]

"It's nothing," Fabs lied, and turned back to the direction of the stronghold. She had already killed everything of note out here, and the woods were getting a little boring. "It's getting a little late. I'm going to head back." She didn't feel she needed to mention the "you can come, too" bit. It wasn't like Fabula would stop her. She probably wasn't even capable of saying no to it.

As she walked, she made certain to at least attempt to keep up conversation. After all, Circe had drawn far from the wrong conclusion from what she had said. "I didn't bring it up not because I'm estranged from Mother, but because I'm estranged from other people." That was word chop-suey. She tried to explain a bit better. "Mother's expectations have never been difficult for me to live up to. I've always been able to do whatever she requires of me, and she's been extremely supportive of everything I've done."

Talking about Petra brought a smile to Fabula's face. The best mother she could ever ask for, and she had been the first thing she had seen when she woke up from that carbonite slab. "It's everyone else that has expectations. Daughter of the Clan Mother and they expect me to move mountains." She sighed loudly. "I'm not good enough for that. If you want a mountain cut down, I can do it. But spells and Force magic and that kind of thing? It's a little beyond me."

She shook her head with a sigh. "No one quite understands what it's like to have a warrior's heart amongst a bunch of witches. I've met maybe one person on this entire planet who understands the feel of battle. The rush of blood, the pull of Rage. I can't do what you can, or the rest of the Nightsisters. I'm deficient." She shrugged, resigned as always. "I'm used to that, though. I can do one thing, and one thing only. So I try to be the best at that thing."