Pull Me Under

[Sam Paige]

CORUSCANT

Del peered through the opening of the alley way. She'd been waiting there for at least an hour now, and as every minute passed she grew more and more agitated.

In the basement of the abandoned building looming behind her, the most important being to her in the entire galaxy lay ill. Possibly dying. The girl was no stranger to death, not here, growing up in the Underworld of Coruscant. Death was a reality, something to be ignored or taken advantage of, depending on the circumstances. But this was different.

This was family.

Surprisingly cold, blue-grey eyes cast over the denizens moving in opposite directions on the sidewalk. The nine year old girl was looking for someone- she just didn't know who, exactly, that was yet. Lanky, unwashed hair hung in her face. It looked mousy now, but somewhere beneath the grime was a reddish gold of fine spun silk (as if she even knew what that was). Dirty hands clutched at the entry of the alley. Despite her impatience and worry, she stood unnaturally still, only her gaze flicking back and forth. Back and forth.

He'd told her that someone was coming who could help them. He hadn't specified how that help happen, or what it would look like, but Del trusted him. If he said that she would know this person when she saw them, well, then she'd know them when she saw that. They had risked coming up, farther into the city proper than they usually did. This place, this close to the light, was unsafe for the likes of them. He had told her, time and time again, that they were creatures of the shadows, of the Undercity. Of the dark. She liked it when he explained things, especially when they were true things. His stories of his people, of the times of war and famine and the times of great feasting when the upper city saw it's wars, were her favorites. She had only been alive for one of those (he had said that Sith battled Alliance, but it didn't mean much). But oh, how they had feasted. They had lived like royalty for a month after the skies had burned. She had never gone to sleep, so many nights in a row, with a full belly, as she had during the aftermath of that war.

Del sighed silently, focusing on the passing creatures. She had a job to do. One that he couldn't do by himself. She of course assumed that the help he needed was to get better- the disease had taken him suddenly, reducing the once mighty figure to sunken eyes and foul smells.

What she didn't know was that he wasn't looking for help for himself.

He was looking for help for her.

There.

Del didn't know how she knew, but she knew. There was no doubting it. The child slipped out of the alley, melting in to the crowd. She sidled up next to him- tall, human- maybe it was his black hair- maybe it was the grey, piercing eyes. But whatever it was, she knew he'd understand whatever it was that was needed.

Reaching up, she firmly tugged at his sleeve.

"My friend Mister Snuffles is sick. He told me to find you."

[member="Tirdarius"]

 

[Teynara Jeralyr]

Coruscant Undercity, 0200hrs Galactic Standard Time

The urge to walk had proven inescapable, a restlessness descending from which respite had happened to be oddly elusive. It happened sometimes, this need to simply go, to allow your legs to carry you onwards, no matter where you might end up as a result. At such moments, the Dark Side spoke to him, sibilant whispers in his mind that prompted him to simply stride onwards, pulled from sleep and coaxed into taking in the evening air. On Korriban, the night was the best time to commune with the darkness: a moment when sleep might descend upon others, and stillness would sweep across the planet, leaving only the Force to stir and flow as it willed. Here...that sensation was ever present, and the artificial monstrosity that was the planet never fell silent.

The night had a curious chill to it, a dampness in the air that suggested the threat of imminent rain, though Coruscant had ever had weather control satellites to regulate such things. As I recall, true rain is an anomaly, the product of fragile meteorological forces held too long in balance. Perhaps tonight was such a night: when the primal energies of the world braced against the control of technology and civilisation, raging free to sweep through a land of metal and permacrete. It would be a fitting counterpoint to his own thoughts.

Though many had taken to their beds, much as he had intended to, there was still the ever-present sense of life here: those profound energies that raced through the planet as blood through its veins, each individual a soft beacon of light that contributed to a vast crescendo of luminosity. But, as was ever the case where light gathered, so too did the darkness that stemmed from their desires, thoughts, wishes and intentions: a deep shadow that could only be cast by a truly bright light. And so this place remains tainted by it, the Sith Lord thought reflectively as his footsteps tapped gently against the permacrete beneath his feet. It assails us all, even though many would only look up, to wonder at the light. So few ever look down, to see the darkness at the root of all.

A fitting enough metaphor for the planet itself: the rich apartments and grandiose towers that rose so high above the surface sat upon a bedrock of deprivation and darkness. Down here, on the cold streets, there is vice, corruption, resentment, all hidden beneath shining buildings and blind eyes. One or both required cleansing, but such were aspirations far removed from reality: one could never truly hope to banish the complacency of the light, nor the taint of the dark. And so we suffer for it, day by day, none truly free of the struggle.

He had come to a pause, standing within a crowd of many varied beings, their thoughts spilling out in waves that only a few might detect, were they to listen carefully enough. Soft black robes came to a stillness, wrapped around him with care, to protect against the chill of the early hours. Little ambient light reached this place, and what warmth was present on the streets soon ascended beyond those lower levels to head skyward, the residual thermals radiating from the permacrete to vanish into the upper levels of the city. An amusing contrast: the warmth of the living packed into such tight quarters, yet cold for all that.

A soft tugging at the sleeve of his robe caught his attention, though he ignored it at first, lost in the reverie of his own thoughts. Gentle at first, then more insistent, not a subtle request for a moment, but a forceful demand for attention, the sort that would not take 'no' for an answer. His head turned, looking for the source, then downwards as none was to be found, grey eyes focusing on the smaller body at his side, looking up at him with the certainty of conviction, something so often lost as youth gave way to age.

"It is late for you to be out here on the streets, little one," he observed softly, his voice rich with the careful intonation of a Coruscanti native. The girl could scarcely have made it to her first decade of life, possessed of the slight, underfed frame of one who had lived in the Undercity for far longer than any sentient rightly should. "Nor should you be out here alone. Where are your parents?"

| [member="Del"] |​

 

[Sam Paige]

While the decay and darkness might be worth commenting on, or even noticing, for most people, it was utterly unremarkable to Del. It wasn't that she didn't know how wretched this place was- there was no growing up here without that innate understanding. But the concept that the galaxy could be anything more than this was one that had never seriously entered into her head. Incremental change she could imagine. Small steps up and greater depths below.

But Del was a creature that had never known the feeling of the sun full on her face. And she had no concept of what she was missing.

The child looked up at [member="Tirdarius"] with a slightly screwed up expression on her face. This was who her friend wanted help from? He asked stupid questions.

"Don't have parents," she said, a certain amount of scorn in that small voice. None of the children out here did. Not on these streets, not at this time of night. Didn't he know anything?

"And I'm not alone. Got Mouse."

As if on cue, a tiny green snout came poking over her shoulder. Black eyes, catching the barest traces of light from nearby buildings, glittered up at the man. The garto was small, even for one of it's kind. But then, so was she. It eyed the looming figure with slightly less distaste than Del currently was. Then, yawning, revealing tiny needle sharp teeth, it slunk down the back of her shirt again.

"And Mister Snuffles," she added. Her stormy eyes narrowed at she looked up at Tirdarius, obviously considering something for a moment.

"He says you can help. Told me to look for you."

Unselfconsciously, Del tugged sharply on his sleeve again.

"It's 'portant. Come on."

​The impatience in her voice was borne out in every centimeter of her slight body. It didn't matter who this man was. She'd be told that he could help. He could have been a king or a great warrior, and she would have acted the same way. The fact that he was a Sith Lord would have given her equal pause- that is to say- none.

 

[Teynara Jeralyr]

| [member="Del"] |​

The admission of her parents being gone ought to have been heart-wrenching, the sort of sentiment that caused another to feel a well of pity and sympathy for her, forced to face the bitterness of life at such a young age, when such a thing should have been far ahead of her. One's parents were supposed to be a tether to a more optimistic reality, there to provide a nurturing environment that kept away the horror and unfairness of 'real' life. They are a shield from all that we are not yet ready to face. This one had no such safety net.

That she had adopted some sort of pet was likely a defense mechanism of sorts: children often anthropormorphised animals as substitutes for true Human friends. After all, an animal cannot judge you, and will abide with you as long as you can provide it with food and shelter. That raised a curiousity, though: the waif was barely fed herself, judging by how skinny she was. How would she provide for one pet, much less two? It simply didn't seem plausible, but there was plenty of conviction in her voice.

Impatience, too. She seemed certain that he would help - had asserted as much by telling him that one of her childish delusions had even said so. But it was obvious that she would not appreciate hesitancy or delay: if he did not act, she would go elsewhere. And why should she not? The assistance of a Sith is usually not something that others seek out unless they are desperate? What business was it of his?

"Lead on, then, child," he told her, apparently making a decision. The Force had drawn him out here for some reason, and had a tendency of communicating in riddles rather than with direct indications. Perhaps this is the reason I am out here. Should that not be the case, the least he could do was see that the girl ended up somewhere safer than out on the mean streets. She is not of age to be exposed to the horrors that can be found out here.
Though something told him that he would already be too late in that respect.

"How did you know that I'm the one you were supposed to find?", he asked inquisitively as he turned to follow the girl, intrigued despite himself. She seemed so certain, and that was a rare enough trait in children. They tended to be whimsical, their minds easily changed or manipulated, so uncertain were they of their place in the world. He sensed none of this from her: just concern for another, and an iron will inclined to see that everything was put right again. Strange enough to warrant further observation. "What makes you sure I can help?"

He wasn't sure that he could, in truth. But the nature of this puzzle remains a thing to be solved. The girl would bear watching.

 

[Sam Paige]

As Del turned to lead the way, Mouse poked his head out of the back of her shirt again. The little creature regarded [member="Tirdarius"], it's tail lashing back and forth beneath the tattered fabric. It kept watching him, long tongue flicking out languidly, as the girl threaded back to the alley way she'd appeared from.

She shrugged, glancing back at him.

"I saw you and I just knew," she said simply, as though she were talking to a smaller child.

Each pair of steps was irregular. Pat thump, pat thump. Twisting in at the wrong angle, her knee moved out of time with the rest of her gait. Even though she was not seriously encumbered in this situation, the rolling gait caused by the lameness in her left leg was impossible to miss.

Furtively, Del glanced back and forth, then behind them before ducking in to the abandoned building. She had to move a loose board, just inside the door to manage it. Pausing after slipping through, she looked back at him through the door, then frowned at the size of the hole that would clearly not admit someone of his stature.

Instead of asking him for help (which didn't even cross her mind), Del disappeared for a moment in to the murk. She came back with a long metal bar, and carefully pried off another one of the boards. It took a few moments of effort, but she managed it. Eyeing the hole again, she gave it a nod. He'd have to duck, but even a grown-up could fit through that.

The interior was dark and largely empty but for a large pile of refuse. It had the damp, musky, lived in scent of an animal den, but the smell was not completely unpleasant. She moved past the pile without a second glance. In the murk, details were difficult to make out. But peaking just out from beneath the edge of the pile was something that resembled a human rib bone. Dull indentations coated the surface. Teeth marks, but not of a predatory animal.

The girl led the way down a rickety set of stairs, glancing back occasionally to make sure he was still following.

"Mister Snuffles?" She called softly, almost gently.

"I brought him."

From a shadowed corner, something moved. Unlike Mouse, this something was not small. The great, tentacled head of an Umrach shifted along the floor. It couldn't even find the strength to lift it. Dark eyes were glazed over, filmy with age and pain. Without hesitation, Del closed the distance, kneeling next to the great beast. She reached out, her small hand stroking his neck softly
​"He's going to make you feel better. He's here to help, just like you said he would."

 

[Teynara Jeralyr]

| [member="Del"] |​

The shadows that lingered throughout the abandoned building served only to encase whatever was within in a protective bubble of darkness: not something likely to be stumbled across or interferred with. The girl had chosen her hiding place well, and it was clear enough just by watching her stubborn efforts to enter that what resided within was important. Truth be told, Tirdarius admired her resilience, her sense of independence - unusual in one so young. But then, none could survive down here for long and yet remain a child. That much remained a truism that appeared to hold true for her. Though her pre-adolescent mind has clearly created fantasy to preserve her sanity.

She was confident, certain that he was the one she had come looking for, and that he might help her. That was a certainty beyond mere childish trust in the omnipotence of an adult: it was the mind of someone that knew something she should not have done. And there's something I've seen far too many times before. Perhaps he should have felt an inkling before - the Force had drawn him to her, had it not? Did it draw her to me in turn? If so, she was far more than a lost little urchin. Potentially.

Motion drew his eyes, narrowing them into focus. What little illumination existed within the room, cast by the bright neon lights of the buildings beyond, served only to illuminate a horror: something pulled from a child's nightmare into living flesh. Tentacles of deep purple served to represent a face, something that was not even remotely close to anything Human. Strange-clawlike forearms extended outwards from a dull-green torso, predatory, capable of harming that child with ease. A dangerous thing, yet she does not fear it. Worse, perhaps: she had adopted it.

There was something more, too: he did not sense it, and had not known it was here. Prior to entering this ruin of a building, he had suspected that the girl was simply delusional, for there was no sense of life within. Even now, standing there observing it, all he could sense was a void in the Force: an absence, as though nothing existed there but air. That struck him as far more problematic than the appearance of the creature she affectionately called 'friend'. It speaks of something that should not exist.

"I'm hardly a healer, girl, and no art of mine would cure this," he remarked cooly, folding his arms over his chest, grey eyes holding on those of the creature that she touched so affectionately, no fear present in her expression. "The only beings who could will never return to Coruscant," he continued. He did not recognise the species of creature before him, but there was only one thing which could present as it did through the Force: the Yuuzhan Vong. One of their leftover toys. "Does it speak to you? You can hear its thoughts?"

That was the puzzle: she had a clear affinity for the two creatures present besides themselves, both seemingly content with the contact and presence she provided them both. One rested within her shirt, the other lay prone and vulnerable on the floor, a deadly being that was not dangerous to her. Such a thing did not happen without something more going on. Which means they must be able to communicate with her, and she must be able to understand them. That was an interesting puzzle piece.

The condition of the creature made it obvious to both of them that it was dying: it could barely move, the potentially lethal nature blunted by illness or age. Death comes for us all, eventually. The only help that a being like Tirdarius might offer, he knew, was to usher that in quickly and painlessly, rather than permit a lengthy deterioration. She will not understand that, however. Such would not restrain him, if it came to that, but killing was not something to be entered into lightly. And why sever something from life if it is willing to fight for it? That was the question before them now: did it want life, or an end to it?

 

[Sam Paige]

Turning around, she plopped down on the floor, scooching her rear backwards until she sat with the length of her back pressed against the Umrach's shuddering flank. One hand kept stroking its neck gently, but the frown on her face showed that not only had she understood his words, but that she was seriously considering them.

"He doesn't talk," she said finally, decisive, starting at the end first. It was easier. "Not exactly. Not with words."

Now however, her limited vocabulary and experience bumped up against what she wanted to explain. She knew what he liked, what he didn't like, what made him feel safe- what he liked to eat, when he was in pain. It wasn't words, it wasn't pictures. It wasn't even feelings, really. What she did wasn't exactly conscious, which made it all but impossible to put in to words. The Umrach's body language, subtle vibrations, and some deeper connection made it possible. Often, she had to interpret what she gleaned in creative ways, but she was rarely wrong. There was a weight in the world around her- in her head- where creatures like Mr. Snuffles walked. And she found that weight a comfort.

"I don't hear him." She stopped again, the frustration writ large across her face. "It's not my ears. Understand? He's heavy. In my head."

Looking down at her friend, her hand stopped moving for a moment.

"Usually, he fights. If it hurts. He bites it. Or rests. But he's not biting anymore. Sometimes. Sometimes he knows that .....not being in pain is.... more important than being in pain. If he can't fight it. If it's not something he can bite."

Del looked up at [member="Tirdarius"], her stormy eyes narrowing slightly.

"He can't bite this, can he?"

 

[Teynara Jeralyr]

| [member="Del"] |​

There was far more going on here than was obvious to the eye, but Tirdarius knew that play well enough. The girl was communicating with the creature in a manner that remained silent except between them, but that she had gleaned a means to do so in the first place made it clear that she was more than she seemed. He was tempted to look at her through the Force - truly look at her - but she was not to be the focus of the moment. Even if she was what he suspected, it was largely irrelevant. Too young, too inexperienced in the depravities of the Galaxy. That was how it so often went: children were not to be trained. That was their way.

Still, he couldn't deny her acceptance of the realities before her: she knew that the beast would not survive whatever it was that assailed it. Whether the creature had communicated it to her or not, her words showed the truth of that: one could live, and fight, or one could embrace fate, and die. This one knows it's not going to recover. The creature wasn't the issue: he knew he might extinguish its life and end the suffering of such a thing with little effort on his thought. But the girl may believe herself prepared to embrace death, and simply be mistaken.

"I rather doubt it," he said, calmly appraising the creature visually, since there was no way to detect it within the Force. No doubt whatever deterioration it is suffering could only be reversed by an experienced biologist with knowledge of engineered lifeforms. The original creators would not bother with such: chances are they would simply allow it to die and recycle the biological components to be used elsewhere. Disgusting beings. "Some things simply can't be fought: you may choose to submit with grace, or fall only when forced."

That the creature hadn't killed itself spoke volumes of the relationship it had with the youngling, though: anything this far gone would have understood that there was no coming back from such a condition. Most animals find a graveyard of its own kind, and simply lay down and allow the life to leech from it. That this one had not done so spoke volumes about the emotional involvement: whether it truly felt affection for the girl was irrelevant: perhaps it simply thought of her as part of a pack, and wished to see her survive when it could not protect her. Primal instincts, or something deeper? Hard to say, but at least he knew his own role in this little drama.

"You understand what it is that must be done now, don't you?", he asked softly, his hand reaching for the black metallic lightsaber that rested at his hip. This wouldn't be murder, oh no: he knew well enough what was being asked of him, and it was one of the few mercies that a Sith might offer. "When you can't fight anymore, you must let go, but a being used to fighting must die on their feet." He offered the faintest of shrugs, as if to say it was irrelevant: in truth, how you lived was ever more important than how you died. But when death is all that remains to you, how you meet it matters a great deal.

"The question remains: are you both prepared for what must be?", he asked, continuing to watch the ailing creature that towered over the both of them. He would not strike yet - in battle, there were fewer courtesies to observe, but in something as ritualistic as this, there was no need to hurry things along.

 

[Sam Paige]

It took the child a moment to parse through some of the unfamiliar syntax and muddle out a simpler version of what he was saying. A few of the words were unfamiliar- what even was grace? But she got the idea and very, very slowly, she looked up at her friend. Did he understand?

The Umrach wasn't looking at her though. It was staring at [member="Tirdarius"] .

It was almost like it took the child's acceptance for the beast to understand as well. It lumbered, slowly and with a single false start, to its feet. The fetid smell of it's breath, labored and rank, filled the air between them. Several tentacles reached out, casting gently over the girl's hair. But it's attention was all for the Sith standing a few meters away. Very slowly, those milky eyes turned from him, back to Del and then to him again.

The child frowned.

"He says that's not the kind of help he wants," she said, tone bewildered. "But if he dies, he won't need help with me, 'cause he'll be gone," she insisted, her throat tight.

Del didn't understand. As far as was possible, she understood the inevitability of what was calling her friend. But she hadn't thought at all past that. What did he mean, that she shouldn't stay here? Where else was she supposed to go?

 

[Teynara Jeralyr]

| [member="Del"] |​

Pausing in his lethal intent, the Sith Lord allowed his eyes to move between the monster and the girl that was clearly under its protection, a relationship which seemed far that it seemed outwardly: here was a child that had dreamt a nightmare and then seen it become reality. And far from cowering under the bed, she has mastered her fear of it and become a friend. Such a strange thing, surreal in some respects, but the Force had a habit of finding the galaxy's outcasts to offer it's gifts to. That they might manifest in one so young in a way so unusual was but further proof of the whimsical nature of the Force.

He had read the request very wrongly, though: the beast was not looking to preserve itself, or seek an end to the suffering it endured. It was concerned about her, in a way he was not entirely sure that he understood. Perhaps it has adopted her as part of some primitive pack, making her family in a fashion otherwise alien to such a being. To seek protection for her once it was gone - as it had to have known that it sooner would be - was perhaps an act one might only attribute to a sentient being. So many meet their end without consideration of those left behind.

That this one might display something of that ilk almost suggested a civilised nature.

He knew well enough that he could simply usher the creature to a quick death and walk away, leave the girl to fend for herself and the smaller creature she kept as a pet within her jacket, simply another unwanted, discarded urchin scurrying in the underbelly of a city-wide planet, trying to survive and scrape together a living while the galaxy moved on without her. Such a thing might strengthen her, force her into true possession of her gifts, or it might strangle her potential, squandering it along with her lifeblood on the dirty streets, less than an afterthought.

His conscience was not the kind to feel guilt at such a notion: the world was ever a cruel place, and the fate he knew he might offer her would not be any kinder to her than the end he might leave her to here. Survival on the streets was harsh, and she would find little true direction from it, her destiny averted. Though deprivation would no doubt be her fate, at least it might be all she would know: no understanding of greater possibility available to taunt her. The path she might walk with his support...

It would be a deadly thing, a curse he might offer that would only provide a sliver of hope that she might aspire to something better. Once the Dark Side allows itself to be touched by you, it holds on with a grasp that even death often fails to loosen. It was no simple death sentence that his actions might offer her: it was something far beyond that. Are you willing to gamble all that you are and will be for the chance to be something more? Bah - how could any child be expected to make such a bargain, knowing the price of it?

"You don't know what it is that you ask," he said sternly, both eyes and his words directed towards the ugly, ailing creature that demanded this of him. The creature lacked the most simple touch of the Force, no true conception of it, no sense of what such a request might mean for the girl in his care. "Her safety would not be guaranteed, nor would her survival." Tirdarius shook his head, knowing it might not even understand or care what he said now. "Is that what you want for her?"

True, it was not the only option available: he might take her somewhere civilised, drop her with someone that might act responsibly and care for her. It would be a simple thing to pay for her keep, education, to see her provided for, without having to worry about a darker path opening up before her. But that would be as much a waste of her potential as simply walking away and leaving her to scavenge these mean streets. A better life for her, but not a productive one. And the Jedi would soon find their way to her, if so placed.

"What about you, girl?", he asked, turning his attention to the youngling, knowing that she was likely confused by the turn of events at hand. "You understand what we're talking about here? What your...friend is asking?"