For the Night is Dark and Full of Terrors. (Lassiter)

[Joycelyn Zambrano]

The sun rose over the skyline of Coruscant. The electric lights were all out-shined by the rising sun as it burst forth from the horizon. Joycelyn Zambrano's brown eyes watched the glowing orb's ascent through her tinted spectacles, which protected her eyes from the bright light. The Epicanthix-Vahla hybrid dangled her feet from a balcony on the Sith Temple, drumming her fingers on the duracrete and biting down on the stick that once had held a ball of sticky sweetness.

Brushing her fingers through her bleached fringe, she looked over her shoulder, in expectation. She was not just sitting there for the hell of it, the acolyte was waiting for someone. Names had been whispered, and notes exchanged. At last, she had been noticed by one of her own. If she could make a good impression, Joycelyn might just have someone to train her. A smile spread over her lips as the thought. Knowledge, power, and once she could grasp it: Freedom.

[member="Lassiter"]

 

[Lassiter]

Sunrise. It wasn’t the part of the day when Sena was the most active. Sunrise was when the prey woke up and when the monsters went into slumber. Sunrise was when people hadn’t spent a day in turmoil and dulled their senses with obligations. Now night on the other hand called to the young half-Vahla on a more basic level. The noises and lights of civilization could never be compared to the bright neon of clubs and diners. The night hid those who wished it and Sena was without doubt someone who preferred to find herself hidden.

Hidden in crowds, hidden in plain sight. There was something to it all that just called to her. As such it felt beyond her to find the priestesses call her to a summit for discussions regarding furth improvement of the Ember only to have the dossier of one [member="Joycelyn Zambrano"] in her lap. At first she didn’t see any similarities. This woman wasn’t what Sena had dealt with before. Hell, Sena hadn’t really dealt with teaching at all, much less discipline. Her best friend could be the ultimate proof of that.

Nonetheless she still accepted it. For Vahl.

The quiet growl of the hounds sounded off through the halls of the Sith Temple. This was how Sena had learned, this was how her apprentice would learn. Fear was a motivator, fear was strength but most of all it was the gateway that had opened Sena to the world of so much more.

The rush of footsteps called out from behind Joycelyn as two of the hounds charged straight for her in an attack.

There was no spoken ‘Hello’ yet. This was merely the first test in prospecting the girl’s worth.

 

[Joycelyn Zambrano]

Joycelyn's eyes opened wide as she looked behind her and saw the two humanoids charging towards her with obviously malicious intent. First came a jolt of fear. It was like a dagger of ice shearing through her spine, but from deep within her, from the raging fire in her heart, came a sense of emergency and heightened alertness of her surroundings. Sitting on the balcony would not do, it would not do at all. The tall apprentice tipped backwards and put her hands on the floor of the balcony while bringing her leg around in a vicious kick for the first of the Hounds. It was in no way a perfect kick, but it was swift and relatively powerful.

Of course, the halfbreed did not take time to rest. From what little experience she had gathered, she knew that one did not give nor take breaks in a fight. Especially so when fighting two opponents. Following the momentum set in motion by her kick, she tried to roll away and occupy the door-space, thus pressing the hounds into the balcony. Joycelyn knew she could not take on the two of them unarmed. She was practised in martial arts, but not an expert by far. She needed to get to her feet and get her weapon in order to stand a chance. She had not yet equipped herself with a lightsabre, and carried only a vibroblade and a similarly designed dagger.

[member="Lassiter"]

 

[Lassiter]

Nothing on Sena’s face would offer insight into her reaction to seeing the young acolyte get back back on her feet. She merely propped her eyebrow and tilted her head ever so slightly as if still checking the new girl’s reaction. Seeing anything that had to be worked on, anything to be reimagined on the more fundamental level. So far it was all good, the girl was on her feet again. It wasn’t much yet, but there were something in there that most certainly spoke to the ‘Master.’ What it was remained a mystery. For now.

The hounds charged at the woman once more in synchronised attacks. One low and one high with only a few seconds worth of reaction time between one another. It was a courtesy, the battle rarely allowed either party the chance to catch their breath in this manner. The death of acolytes served the Ember no better than any other outsider would. The acolyte was offered a chance to regain her breath solely because her master, just this once, wished her to.

After the attack she’d find both Hounds backing away, for now.

[member="Joycelyn Zambrano"]

 

[Joycelyn Zambrano]

As expected, the two assailants struck again. This time, Joycelyn was able to reach for her blades. The draw was swift and clean as she moved right into a slash at the one attacking high. Blood would squirt, but no fatal injury dealt as she intercepted the Hound's attack with her own. Given the small reaction time, she was not able to stop the second blow, but took it right on the cheek. Once more, blood squirted, but this time it was her own. She turned to the Hound with ferocity in her eyes, only to see it shrinking away. What was this?

Joycelyn peered into the darkness. Her vibroblade clenched tightly in her hand. Who was there? Assassins? Cowards that lurked in the shadows and plucked at their opponents. She had no patience for such. Joy spat red over the edge of the balcony and wiped the stains from the corner of her mouth, all the while her eyes peered into the dark. She was not afraid, not any more. She was just angry.

[member="Lassiter"]

 

[Lassiter]

There was fire to the girl. The words of the high priestess in a situation not too unlike this one rang through the young Sword’s mind. ‘You have a fire to you, good. Most of our kind do.’ The hounds had riled her up and fear had transitioned into anger. The silence lingered without any action. There were no attacks, just silence as the tensions grew in the spotlight in which [member="Joycelyn Zambrano"] had placed herself.

Eventually the cold sound of boots reverberated from the dark and Sena stepped into the light. Her expression seemingly unimpressed, her nose was stuck in the air and her stare judged the new apprentice as if to compare her to the Master herself. There was work to be done, no doubt. Question was how tempered that fire within the young Epicanthix-Vahla was.

“I see.”

It was all she would say before starting to circle around the apprentice. Still judging, still silent, still poking for reactions. A grin spread on Sena’s lips as the circling continued. Eyes interlocked with the apprentice. The footsteps echoed still.

Sena could do this all day.

 

[Joycelyn Zambrano]

While her active fury stilled with the silence, her fire did not. She calmed, but retained her sharpness. Her hand clutched her vibroblade tightly. Despite all her rage, she had temperament enough to wait. Then came the sound of boots. The corners of Joycelyn's lips curled in a smile as she sensed an approach. Someone was playing it cool; someone was testing her. What did she see? A woman. Red haired, green eyed, pale complexion and a certain hubris in her look. Physically unimpressive, but the pressure of her presence was palpably greater than Joy's own.

As the Sword of Vahl stared at Joycelyn, she stared back. the Vahla-Epicanthix was considerably taller and had to crane her head down to look at the Sith Knight in front of her. When Sena begun circling her, Joy drew herself back up into her full height and followed her with her eyes, but she did not turn around. Rather she reached out to feel her position at any point, allowing the Sith to inspect her, but keeping an eye out all the same.

[member="Lassiter"]

 

[Lassiter]

There was no reaction. An anticlimax if Sena had ever had one as a master. She stopped behind the student to look out the window. At first she had set her eyes on the magnificent high-rises in the near-distance from the temple. But something caught her eye. Something shimmering. Something... Valuable? Sena’s boots clacked their way towards the pair of sunglasses lying on the floor by the very same spot in which Joycelyn had previously been sitting.

Gracefully kneeling down she grabbed a hold of them and raised them in front of her.

“Who am I?” She asked and turned to her student. The shades dangling ever so slow in the sunlight from where [member="Joycelyn Zambrano"] stood.

They must have been hers. Sena would never stand for her student wearing such things. Fingers gently curled themselves around the glasses. A slight squeeze and they would be destroyed, but Sena wasn’t without prodding for her student’s reaction first.

She had something that belonged to the other woman. That item wasn’t destroyed, not yet. But they very well could be within the next few moments. It all depended on the answer she was provided. Some might have seen it as a bit unprovked. A master prodding at her student in all the most pettiest ways possible. In reality, well, it wasn’t too far from the truth. Sena might have agreed to take on the assignment, but that didn’t mean she had to like it.

This was merely making the best out of the situation. Or well, worst. It depended on how you looked at it.

 

[Joycelyn Zambrano]

The sound of sunglasses being picked up was a very distinct one, and it made Joycelyn twitch. Those were her sunglasses, they were nice sunglasses and they were hers. She turned quickly and glowered at the shorter Sith, her brown irises developing a shade of purple as the light of the sun rising over the skyline fell on her eyes. She was about to spurt a childish insult at the Sith Knight, but restrained herself. Though her eyes betrayed her intended spite before she spoke.

"You are in the Ember, and in the Sith."

Her words showed no animosity, but rather a reverence towards both the mentioned factions. Still, she had no lid on her desire to snatch back her shades. As her anger sated, cooled, sharpened, she started to realise to whom she was talking. of course, her insolence did not diminish for that fact.

"You are the Sword of Vahl."

She tried to remember the Knight's second name, Darth Drrrrrrrrrsomethingsomething Drum? Drill? Dritten? Dragon? Dracula? She gave up. It was a futile exercise. Damn, she really wanted her shades back.

[member="Lassiter"]

 

[Lassiter]

“Indeed.” Said Sena and smirked. “Sword of Vahl to many, Darth Drethi to most.”

Oh this was good. The shades were her student’s. There was no doubt about it. That pool of anger boiling within her, the way she stared her master down. Wildfires could have erupted out of nowhere. Sena felt the way the stare of her pupil could nearly tear that hand off in sheer desire for the item within its grasp. It was a desired outcome. The master had some form of leverage. Good.

“Why am I here?” Lassiter asked as she dangled the pair of sunglasses in front of her in a taunt. “Why am I doing all this?”

Her free hand grasped at the edge of Sena’s jacket. A swift movement and she had the glasses stashed away, hooked to the pockets within. Close to her heart if it was to be found there.

Still, Sena wasn’t an idiot. Poke at a bear and it will get you back. Her mind prepared for a stand-off rather than an answer.

[member="Joycelyn Zambrano"]

 

[Joycelyn Zambrano]

Darth Drethi. Joycelyn Zambrano committed the name to mind. Partly because the title 'Sword of Vahl' was not a good universal reference for the person in front of her, and partly because Darth Drethi was touching her sunglasses without her approval. Joycelyn did not blink, nor take her eyes away from the shorter Vahla even as the sunglasses were dangled in front of her.

"You are testing me." testing my patience.

Joy's empty hand balled into a fist as Sena put her glasses into her own jacket. That was it. This little twerp was getting it. No matter how much more powerful Darth Drethi was, no one took Joycelyn's stuff. First she raised her vibroblade and twisted her hip as though she was about to thrust the short, but devastating, blade into the Sword of Vahl's chest. Instead, it was a feint. The twisting of the hip was also the starting motion of a vicious blow directed at her abdomen. Her self-control had burst.

 

[Lassiter]

The crackle of lightning wasn’t something new to Lassiter, nor would it be to Joy once the two of them were done. Under different circumstances the attack from her student could have been the one that ended her, but such wasn’t the case today. The Knight dashed back to avoid the attack coming for her chest. Or rather, her abdomen. There was no retaliation coming. Not at first. For a second she merely continued to eye her student before finally dashing off once more.

Around the back and with her palm extended towards her student there was no doubt in Sena’s mind what would come next. A deep chuckle and the crackle of lightning.

“I certainly was.” Sena spoke for a moment before continuing with her first step in laying down the law for how this was going to work. “You have a fire to you. Most of our kind do.”

The electrical discharges coming from the master’s tips weren’t really all that harmful. They stung like hell, but ultimately a dead acolyte wasn’t an outcome that was really on the table here. Not that the Acolyte needed to know that. It would, after all, undermine all their efforts at getting something into that sunglass-wearing head of hers.

“Do you feel that pain, Joycelyn?” Sena asked as the torment went on. “This is only the beginning. Treasure the pain, remember the lessons it will teach you. It is my firm belief that you have to experience something to become it. And trust me, I know pain. With time, you will too.”

“Of course, at first you will hate me. You will want me dead and wish I had never found your miserable form in this very room. But with time I will be your friend. In fact, actually, from here on out I am your only friend, and you would do well to remember that.”

The tormenting lightning ended. A few moments of silence was allowed to pass as [member="Joycelyn Zambrano"] was allowed to catch her breath.

“From here on out you, you are to refer to me as ‘Master’ and you shall kneel in my presence unless instructed otherwise.” Sena allowed her apprentice to do just that. Kneel. “You will follow my orders explicitly or otherwise face consequences you’d likely never forget.”

Sena gave her student a solemn staredown.

“Do I make myself clear, apprentice?”

 

[Joycelyn Zambrano]

It all seemed so easy, too easy. And then she missed. Joycelyn tried to chop with her vibroblade, but missed. The Sith went around her and Joycelyn turned to follow. Then came the scent and sound of crackling ozone. The pain was excruciating. Her vibroblade fell out of her hand and to the floor below. Joycelyn fell to her knees. She tried to stand up, to endure, but fell to her knees. All Joycelyn could do was glower at the Knight who charged her up like a defective battery. Her teeth gritted in fury, but she had no way of resisting the electric charge.

Hatred, she knew that now. Friendship? Perhaps one day that would come. For now, she detested the person who inflicted such pain upon her, and who stole her sunglasses. If Darth Drethi was her only friend, then Joycelyn Zambrano preferred to be friendless.

She rose, shaking, smoke rising from her form, but her brown eyes still shooting daggers at Sena. She only rose to a kneeling stance, though every fibre in her body desired to tackle the Sith right then and there. Then again, she was not sure she could stand any more.

"Yes... Master."

The fight was not out of her yet, her eyes could set alight an ocean, and yet she complied. For strength, and for future vengeance.

[member="Lassiter"]

 

[Lassiter]

And then, the grin grew. The deep breath reverberated around the chamber in victorious bliss. ‘Master.’ This woman was already accepting what was meant to be. The Master-Apprentice relation between two half-vahla. The path to revenge was Joycelyn’s to follow soon enough, but until then there would be plenty more of what they had just experienced today.

“... Good.” Sena finally allowed her student as she walked over to her kneeling form. “And don’t you forget it.”

Hand reaching in from within her jacket Sena handed the glasses back. Putting them on the floor in front of the student’s feet.

“Training starts soon. You will know when it happens.”

Hounds. Always the hounds. The order for random ambushes on the temple grounds had been issued already. From this day on, until [member="Joycelyn Zambrano"] was a knight (or dead), the hounds would temper her in the fierce art of lightsaber combat. Preparation for the unexpected, lessons to always remain alert.

But for now she was allowed to rest.

The Master had other things to attend to.

They would be back in this very room soon enough.

 

[Joycelyn Zambrano]

Joycelyn did not blink, nor did she take her eyes away from the Sword of Vahl for a second. She did not care that they felt dry, the sting in her eyes was nothing compared to the anger she nurtured. She would not forget it, and one day she would carve the memory into that Sith Knight's flesh.

Her fingers picked up the sunglasses carefully and folded the arms of it together. Her hand tightened around its fragile form as she looked down at them then back at Lassiter's disappearing form. The metal and darkened glass creaked under the pressure of her clenching hand until she lightened her grip and replaced her shades inside her own jacket. She would keep them to remind herself of this day.

Joycelyn picked up the vibroblade and looked at her reflection in the mirror polish of the fine blade. It was not activated, thus functioning as a normal short-sword at the moment. So, as another token to remind herself, she put the point of the blade to her own neck and marked herself with a nick. It was deep enough to leave a permanent scar, but not enough to require immediate medical attention. A cut for each failure; a drop of blood spilled to quench the thirst of their goddess.

[member="Lassiter"]