Like Oil and Water

[Vereshin]

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KV3Absy9i4M​

Continued from The Dark Matter​

​

The hull of Vereshin's ship soared through orbit above Dathomir. He portended at his desk, feet apart and a cigarette balanced between his fingers. In one hand he held the completed locket he had imbued for his grieving lover. The loss of their child subsided quickly for him, while he knew the despair still affected Cylaeria. Vereshin made a habit of never dwelling on the past and could not fathom why she refused to move on, something he remained quiet about while trying to respect her feelings.

Breathing deeply, he inhaled on his cigarette before discarding the end in an ashtray. He smoothed down the front of his coat and stood upright, concealed the necklace in his pocket and exited. Striding by Pom's private chambers, he knocked on the door twice to receive her, the sorrow of the previous night still written upon her features. He wondered intently over whether he had been too cold to her and held his breath again before releasing. As she let him in, he strode by the window and rested his fingers upon the glass.

"My darling, for the way I spoke to you yesterday, I am sorry." Vereshin admitted following a long pause between them, having not intended to disrespect her in any way the previous day. "That is not an easy thing for me to admit." He allowed to her to sense his Force signature unhindered and communicated the remorse he felt, an emotion alien to him. The effect she had on him was nothing short of miraculous. As he spoke, he shook his head slightly to emphasize the point.

"Emotion is difficult for me to comprehend and you make me feel more emotion than anybody else I have encountered." He continued as he turned around to face her. "The power you hold over me is indomitable." Taking a deep breath again, he coiled a fist, which he softly planted against the window as he tried to collect his thoughts. "You are all that is preventing me from losing myself to darkness completely. To keep my own mind, I need you." His eyes darted from one side of the wall to the next as he struggled to completely look in Pom's own.

"... But I do not want to have children at this point in time. I cannot make any promises as to when that may change." Vereshin spoke sternly before pausing."Cylaeria, I have dedicated my entire life to sorcery. I do not know of family. The love I feel for you is the only love I have ever known." He detailed his inexperience and obsession with his work. Leaving the window, he approached Pom and held her hands in his own. A pause held the air between them as he prepared to speak again.

"You must understand. If we ever have a child, we must wait, for the sake of the child, until a time comes during which we may adequately raise them. As of now, I am not strong enough to protect a family and possess no assets in which they may be comfortable." He released his breath and sighed, satisfied with releasing his thoughts from his chest. Vershin stroked Cylaeria's fingers, his hands trembling while he held them. "I have apprentices to train let alone." He stated with an expression of emphasis, noting that he was simply too occupied in life to have a family at the present.

"All I mean to say is that I am not ready." Vereshin' words were sincere. What he had delivered to Pom the following day had been masked by anger when he meant no harm. He would respect the ways of her culture if she respected his choices in life. He remained with the inexperience of a child and not an adult who could properly raise one. They stood as antipodes, oil and water, in sole effort to understand the other.

[member="Pom Stych Tivé"]

 

[Pom Stych Tivé]

Pom's sleeping tincture did not quiet her mind to evaluate Vereshin's snarky thoughts assailed against her the night before. She contemplated and brooded on them all through the night. Afterall that is what he advised she do. She was in mourning for her lost baby, and he wanted nothing at all to do with it. As she awoke this morning she could feel his presence onboard and sensed that he had not slept. She felt much trepidation, afraid of what might transpire next between herself and [member=Vereshin]. And he approached…

Confrontation began immediately, yet not as Pom had prepared for; Vereshin apologized. She stopped in her steps, a welling of emotion gripped her. Shock. Relief. Disappointment. Elation, that all is not destroyed between she and he. Pom however was not about to sweep his previously voiced issues under the rug. “I do forgive you.” She knew apologies to be difficult for some cultures, and she did not want to force him to dwell on uncomfortable aspects. “It is as easy as that.”

Pom sat in a softback chair which was set to overlook the viewing window. She solemnly motioned for Vereshin to settle down opposite her. “If I did not care for you, my reaction would be very different.” She paused, a tad nervous about wether or not they will come to common ground. “Yet…” she added reluctantly, “I have a feeling that the things you aired last night, Vereshin, they must come from a place that you take an unabated issue with.”

She reached under the cushion of the chair and raised a long thin wand fashioned of ancient Baobab wood. Twirling it numerous times in the air, she prepared tea across the room. The kettle rose from a ledge into the air, and a hearty flame ignited underneath, as all at once a cupboard door opened and two cups flew off the shelf, with matching plates. In a latter of mere seconds the brew was concocted, and hurling through the air to a small table near her armrest, along with all necessary additives and accessories. Setting down her wand, she took hold of the cup with both hands and delighted in its soothing warmth. It will greatly aid her throbbing head.

“I may be different and my people ancient, Vereshin, but I am not wrong in my ways. My people have served hand in hand with the Sith whenever beckoned. Dathomir has earned notoriety for a planet best left avoided.” Her voice trailed from matter-of-factly, to most serious. “I live as a result of a union between Sith and Nightsister. My father died before I was born. I do quite nicely.”

She enjoyed her tea for a moment, before going on. “I am proud of my heritage, and my dreams in life. You can take this with a grain of salt if you must, but I am as I am. I have made some adjustments to my lifestyle in order to be with you. I need you to accept me for who I am. I need you to be sure, or this is honestly not going to work out.”

She had thought more about what he had said last night, and found justified reason to develop more skills. She will agree to go to the Academy to learn. She would tell him her decision or not, depending on how he responds. A lump formed in her throat as she sat studying him. She had begun holding her breath, only she hadn't realized it.

 

[Vereshin]

Vereshin swallowed a sigh of relief as Pom forgave him, preparing himself for the string of questions which inevitably followed. Having slept poorly the night before, he welcomed the sight of tea and followed her gesture to the waiting chair. He smiled slightly at her use of a wand and allowed her to fill his cup, sitting with his legs casually apart and a hand resting beneath his head. So much had happened to him in the space of two days and caused all of his stress to culminate into anger. Life moved too quickly for the young Sith and his lover's desire for a child pushed him over his capable limits.

"I am not a fighter, Pomst. You will never find a more patient Sith." He began, waiting for the tea to cool slightly. His description of himself most correct, Pom had found herself with one of the most notably unassuming and non-combative members of the Sith Order, something Vereshin thought she ought to be thankful for. "When I spoke to you yesterday, I was in a state of fear. I was angry at myself for not being able to console you. The things I said were distorted by a myriad of emotion." Elaborating on his spiel from the previous night, he noted the fear which had turned to anger at his breaking point. "This loss affected me more than you know. I cried for our child. I do not usually cry." Vereshin breathed and admitted his grief from the day before, which Pom had not noticed during her incoherent state.

"Before I came to you on Dathomir, I completed my trial to become a Sith Knight. During the trial I was plunged into the space between the physical world and the Void. I was forced to witness times yet to come and events which had yet to take place." Vereshin regaled the events which had taken place in the Valley of the Lost Lords. A pause followed and he slightly smiled, anticipating what he would reveal to Pom next. "I saw you and me, with a little boy and a little girl." He picked up his teacup and saucer and sipped lightly, welcoming the revitalizing effect. "... and I was overjoyed, but I was also frightened." His cheerful tone turned solemn as he recalled the vision. "I was frightened because my life seemed to be moving too fast for me to control." Vereshin's tone trailed away from his final sentence as he took a moment to comprehend the events which had occurred up until the present.

"I think your culture is wonderful, Pomst and I do not want you to change who you are." Vereshin's words were sincere. "Of that I am sure." He revealed his true thoughts concerning his lover's regard for her traditional ways, which he accepted with grace. Pom's heritage as a witch, after all, had been what had drawn him to her in the first place. "... But I need you to accept that I am not ready to have children." He stated his terms and set the teacup down shakily, his tone stern and resounding. "Your dream will come true, I have seen it." His voice rose to an optimistic note and he held Pom's hands over the table. "... But right now I am just not ready." He repeated in conclusion.

"I have no family to speak of and have never loved another before meeting you." Following a pause, Vereshin spoke longingly. Pom reminded him of everything he had never experienced during his life as a Sith. "You make me feel whole, Cylaeria." The thought of her being gone from his life sent pang of despair through his chest. He breathed heavily and stroked her hand, his eyes glassy as he placed a kiss on her fingers.

[member="Pom Stych Tivé"]