The Dead God
Location: Crashing in Xam'Chi
Friends: Srina Talon │ John Locke │ Eira Talon
Enemies: Slaad │ Darth Immortuos │ Xenro
Friends: Srina Talon │ John Locke │ Eira Talon
Enemies: Slaad │ Darth Immortuos │ Xenro
“You will not die. I will not allow it.”
He could feel the pain, that sorrow the bled from his skin in crimson droves. Her command was absolute, and while Maliphant couldn’t deny his Queen that much; he knew it was asking much. There was a quiet groan he offered as he rested his hand on the steel that jutted through his stomach - knowing all too well he had been through worse. Crucifixation on Bastion at the hands of the Sith, hours of whipping by the various slave masters, over three months of torture perpetrated by terrorists searching for the Dark Forge…
But none of them required so much attention to detail - his shield hovering on everyone in the ship at a near constant rate. Never would he allow it to falter, never would he allow them to fall to the cruelty, absolute depravity of the virus…
As his hand pressed on the metal, he tried to break it; let that steel dissolve, but it failed. There was a moment of consideration for it - that he wasn’t able to focus enough to destroy the steel through his stomach, even if she commanded that of him. There was a fear to that… that his power was failing - that he may fail Srina in more than one way.
But it was only a momentary thought. Despite her petite frame, she moved to hoist Maliphant - and did so with relative ease. His vision flashed with red, crimson lightning that forced him to cry out in pure, unadulterated pain; blood spilling out on the floor in droves as he struggled to so much as catch a breath. He felt like he was drowning… blood pooled in his throat, and he threw it up as quick as she got him free of the piercing tomb he was all but consigned to a moment before.
When the ship was ripped open, Maliphant could feel - though not hear - the terrible being that sat on the other side of the gunship. He couldn’t sit here… he couldn’t wait for it to strike anyone on board. Panic overcame him as he tried to struggle upwards - but again, his body would not agree. Instead, his head was rested on Srina’s lap, looking up to his savior - the angel in white, the Dread Queen herself.
She focused, maneuvered the force to break and mend, twist his flesh into a working amalgamation of what it once was. It hurt, but Maliphant would endure - made easier by the beauty that encapsulated him. There was something… intoxicating about her that even the force bond could not offer him; how close she seemed to the only thing that seemed important in that moment. Were there any reason to live now, it was her…
As the wound healed, just enough to allow him movement once more, his hand - bloody as it were, rested on her cheek as he offered a weak, but reaffirming smile. He couldn’t see one, but the Force moved their there connection ever constant - and he could see beyond that visage, of anger and contempt, of power and dread she pushed into her magick.
It was fear. Sadness. The ever careful point of weakness she did so well to hide - but could never hide from him.
“Stop.”, he offered her quietly.
“I can’t die… you gave me an order.”
With that, he pulled her head towards his - and gently rested his pale lips against hers. Though stained with blood, there was a tenderness to them that sent shivers down either of their spines; and for that briefest of moments, their bond seemed eternal, infinite in its span. She would know all of him, all of his hopes and dreams - all of his fears.
She would know him better than he knew himself - and when he released, there was nothing but a tempered happiness in his eyes.
“Trust in me…”, he offered once again, blood still staining his clothes as he turned to lift himself. The pilots would have gained them a few precious seconds, but the amalgamation before them was not something mere pilots could have stopped.
Maliphant, weakened, seemed to sway on his feet for a moment as blood stained his silver hair, and gently rolled down his face as he stared the abomination down before him. It smelled of rot, carried with it a darkness that spoke eons more than what the corpse could have - of who he was, of who he had become, of what he would do…
There were no words he could offer the beast of the Blackwing, only a snarl that showed his intent. None on board would die, Maliphant knew that much - but he would ensure this thing that it would understand as well; and so as the red lightsaber in his hand began to enlighten the room, and the many began to cower backwards from it, he offered only a few words to the others;
“Get them… somewhere safe…”, he struggled as a hand raised to the thing between him and the cut in the ship.
The force broke free from his hand in an astonishing display of prowess. Maliphant was one of the most accomplished force users in the galaxy, going as far to conquer the omnipotent Dark Staff with nothing but his mind; but that prowess came now to bear on the plague of a man like the earth on atlas. Heavy, rolling with the force of an ocean slamming down - and the air around them offered much the same as an explosion of air slammed outwards.
It would have killed any normal force user - were they not infected with the Blackwing virus. Maliphant understood this, he knew that the danger of the situation was only exasperated by this thing being in the ship; so he simply needed him gone. Far from it. Far away.
His steps slowly took him to the broken opening, and for a moment, he glanced back over his shoulder to the Queen that demanded he not die. He had a promise to keep - and Maliphant promised to never lie to his Queen…
He only hoped he would never have to break that promise.
Maliphant took the final steps out of the ship as he looked about for the carnage, of who remained on the streets, of where this… opponent of his had ended up. He had to buy them time - just enough for a dedicated rescue party to extract them and the VIP’s. Or at least, the others.
At least Srina.
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