Parental Bonding

[Ras'kala'han]

| D | R | E | A | D | R | O | O | T |​

Syngia; Planet of Monstrosity​

In shaking hands, Darth Vesper gripped the lightsaber. Grimacing, he tried to will himself to still the tremor. He could not. He was not threatened, not at all, not here in his place of highest power, and yet he could not still a sense of existential dread within him. This was - well - it was eerie. Because the man he just killed, if he saw true, peering through the Force, had his face. His features, his form, his voice, and it let out a horrible shriek while decapitated. No, no, that was illogic. Illusion. And yet his own mind was proof against illusion. What was that vision?

"Nothing... nothing at all." And yet, the panic, absent reason, stayed regardless. That vision in the Force was perhaps a reflection of the past, or a possible future, or a twist of the present yet unknown. It was not without meaning, but it was without teeth. Focusing on the cold, thrumming rage that now suffused every cell of his being, Vesper slowed his mind in the gradual approach towards the stillness of a Sith meditation. But stillness would not come, for even his own Force now moved without his consent.

No, it never was his power. It was presumptuous of him to think so. And straining, he could see it -barely - the form it was taking shape without him, the life it was casting itself as - yes, life, that was what it was becoming. A form... humanoid, beneath the crimson waters of the lit pools that surrounded him. The cadaver of his suicidal victim was dissolving, reforming, the spirit whose memories he had dissolved away to prevent from reforming - an infantile spirit, of all things, absent even identity - was asserting form!

Stepping two times backwards, he watched intently as shapes shifted beneath the surface. It was mystery... and it was danger. He reached with his mind for the power to scatter it, examine it, assert control of it, yet it defied him. Sweat streaked his forehead as the meditation turned into a hurricane of confusion, propping himself up against the wall.

"Enough!" And yet, it went on.

[member="Kzaevas Vi'ze"]​

 

[Kzaevas Vi'ze]

It was only the beginning. The form given beneath the veil of crimson proving to be slender and of small frame - a female figure becoming complete. An aura of unspeakable dread and uncertainty intensified as the unknown entity slowly began to rise on its own accord. Pure porcelain covered veins that were alive - pumping with blood. Lungs expanding and contracting as deep breaths were taken in. She - it, was fully conscious now. Eyes of soulless hatred burned as a small ripple was sent through the Force. ​

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Silence sealed its lips before it stumbled forward awkwardly, reaching out slightly before almost falling forward.​

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"Hh...I..."​

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It struggled to even speak, clumsily trying to keep composure. ​

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"Tik...mitris..."​

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Kzaevas then fell to her knees, breathing heavily before a stream of bile and coagulated blood blended with the waters around her. She gave one final look to [member="Darth Vesper"] before seemingly passing out due to exhaustion. ​

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This woman, what was the purpose of this intrusion? This world now breached by external means, a dark tide was rising. Incomprehensible were the events in which this anomaly took place, as not even the planned death of the Sith known as Darth Eversor was supposed to have such unexpected consequence; however, life was now a factor in what was supposed to be brief and sentimental.​

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A stain upon the fabric of this reality.​

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"...Tik...mitris..."​

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What did it mean, this phrase? ​

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And where did this entity come from?​

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[member="Darth Vesper"]

 

[Ras'kala'han]

When life lays a gift at your feet, it's poor policy to reject it. Darth Vesper had expected a spirit, a mass of Dark Side energy and knowledge that he could dissect and devour at his leisure, but there was no such luck - no, instead what he was given was a servant, and he saw it fit to make this being obey. He extended his hand, readying himself to flay the mind of this strange, unconscious being and sunder its thoughts and memories, and make it live only to worship him.

Nothing happened. He was aware of the Force, yes, it was a faint awareness, but as he panted, taking stock of the ache in his head that might be described as a birthing pain, trying to decipher the messages of the Force. No, it was... blurred. It was as though from far away, vanishing, and the only thing he could see lay straight before him. He focused forwards his perception and found it as a mirror. Each knot of power, each drop of the Force he had gleaned painstakingly from others... no, none of it belonged to him anymore.

It was not right. He paused for a moment, then ignited the lightsaber with a flick of his wrist, though it felt heavy in his hand. He was going to slay this thing, free his power - or could he, when they were so closely intertwined? If he sent this being to oblivion, might he follow? Damn the Dark Side! The dangers of sorcery... seldom felt until they were at their most lethal.

He switched off the blade, wading out into the water to cradle the being in his arms, resting against it. "So, you have taken everything from me. Or I have given everything to you. You are my ruin."

Pausing, Darth Vesper - no, he could not call himself 'Darth' anymore, not when he had so lost himself. He was a mask that the truth behind had been stripped away. He was nameless, futureless, powerless... and he was free. Free of his obligation to serve the Sith, to serve Voracitos and to strike down that meddlesome Abyss, he was free of all his dreams and hopes, and what was left was light and empty.

When Kzaevas awoke, it would be in simple, dark robes, resting on a cot. A ways away, the now nameless man was pouring over a few tattered texts. He closed it delicately, and turned to face the woman. "Can you speak? Can you understand me?" His voice was cold, almost monotone.

[member="Kzaevas Vi'ze"]​

 

[Kzaevas Vi'ze]

Awake. Eyelids shuttering as a faint groan escaped the nameless entity - an abomination to bring death, destruction, and darkness. But it wasn't aware of it - she wasn't aware of it. A temporary innocence that served much more as a ploy. In all honesty, this thing did not understand at all what it was. It hadn't the slightest inkling of what it was capable of; however, it would appear that the worst scenario had already been set in motion. The hands to care and handle Kzaevas were of Sith practice.​

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"Can you speak? Can you understand me?"​

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Kzaevas' senses locked in on [member="Slayne"], her head turning to meet him. ​

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"Yes." She spoke aloud. "Where am I?"​

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She slowly sat herself upright, taking in her surroundings. The entity born of the Force appeared a bit perplexed. "Who are you?" The final question spoken into existence. Possibly a question that would lead down a very twisted path of thorns - a potential reality that was to become likely. ​

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When trying to recall any sort of event prior, there was nothing. No kind of pain, happiness, nor disgust. Absolutely nothing but a void of emptiness. Kzaevas wished she could cling to something - have something in her mind that she could cherish or be frightened by.​

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Yet she was so clueless, so unaware of what was in store.​

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A life of confusion and death. ​