Private Slivers of Light

[Rayth]

​

Rayth waited patiently by the door of his cell.

Room, Darth Reprimar called it. Yet it was a room with a door that could be locked from the outside. Despite the lessons - freshly healed scars on his back to testament to how they were delivered - Rayth was not trusted to have an open door at night.

He could not remember his whole life. All he could remember was the way it had been. The routine and the hunger. Hiding by day, hunting at night. Always hoping that someone would walk the shadows alone.

Darth Reprimar, the pureblood sith, would never debase himself with a task as menial as letting Rayth out in the morning. A cloaked orderly was given the duty. The thick durasteel door swung open. Having been immersed in near total darkness, Rayth had to shield his eyes against even the dim torches.

"Show me your arms," the orderly demanded.

Rayth rolled up his sleeves. Recent lessons were pink lines across his forearms.

"That one hasn't healed properly."

Rayth looked down at his own arms. Normally he healed overnight. Today one of the deep cuts was still fresh and pink.

"Come, we will get you some bacta. Then you are to spend the morning on the training grounds," Reprimar's orderly instructed him.

Madrona A’Mia

 

[Madrona A’Mia]

A'MIA

Busy with making preparations for the Acadmey's grand opening and balancing that with all of her other tasks or interests, A'Mia had not been resting during normal hours nor for as long as she ought to be. However, the work needed doing and she refused to entrust certain tasks to any other than fellow Lords of Korriban who were also increasingly involved with their own pressing affairs.

So it was duty which found A'Mia deep in the dungeons, intruding on what otherwise would have been an A and B conversation. She was not overly concerned with social etiquette unless circumstance required that of her and in truth curiosity often overwrote such scripts in her mind. The rather thin and pale young man was peripherally familiar to her, as she'd encountered him in other social settings, and an idea sprang to her mind as she overheard the stern orderly.

"No need to trouble yourself. I'll look after him." She appeared from the shadows, rather alarmingly, and made an abrupt 'shooing' motion toward the attendant with one red-brown long fingered hand.

"Students who require medical attention are my responsibility," she asserted to forestall any protest.

Rayth

 

[Rayth]

"What...who...why?"

The series of questions were thrown out by the orderly without any real expectation of an answer. It might have been made clear to Rayth that he was to do exactly as instructed by anyone Reprimar sent, but they did not hold true power here.

The Acolytes might have been shown their place and forced to climb over one another for recognition, but they were also instilled with the belief that they were special. To have mastery over the Force was to be elevated above the normal denizens of the Galaxy. They were destined to have power, if they had the courage and conviction to take it.

The orderly gave an exasperated wave and retreated.

Rayth was not yet grateful. He would reserve that when he knew what new fate had emerged for him. Instead, he canted his head to one side.

"You have no pulse," he said, clearly bemused by this.

 

[Madrona A’Mia]

A'MIA

The tall woman tipped her head in the opposite direction, in just the same way as the young man. They observed each other thusly as the sound of retreating footsteps faded away. The silence between his statement and her response grew thick until it almost seemed that she wouldn't acknowledge it. She did however, and was animated with sudden movement as she bobbed her head then turned to continue on her way, gesturing that he should follow.

"Observant. You are correct, I suffer none of the drawbacks inherent in having an average humanoid circulatory system. Would you like an opportunity to earn extra credit?" She asked rather abruptly and perhaps rhetorically.

A'Mia moved quickly, operating under the assumption that Rayth would follow, and made her way down a series of hallways which grew more dilapidated the farther they walked. She wore plainclothes that night, simple black and brown fabrics with a long dark cloak atop, no part of her typical officer's uniform in sight. As they reached what appeared to be the dead end of one long, dreary hallway which was scarcely lit save for the glowrod that the woman pulled from an inner pocket of her cloak as they reached the stone wall.

"Hold this, won't you?" She pressed the light into his hands and turned to begin running her hands across the wall, clearly searching for something.

 

[Rayth]

Observant.

Rayth reminded himself that he needed to be careful. He wasn't observant, he was different.

To him, blood was life. To find a creature that existed without it confused him. Rayth had a sense of her in the Force. It reacted to her just the same as any other living being.

There was something calming about holding a conversation with someone else without feeling like he was on the edge of a cliff. The gravity of hunger trying to pull him down.

"What are you looking for?" he dared to ask, holding the light up. In the dark shadows he was as deathly pale as a wraith.

 

[Madrona A’Mia]

A polite young man, or perhaps fearful, curious too. But kept lean, hungry and wanting by some cruel master no doubt. A'Mia mused clinically to herself as she searched for the rune she knew had to be there, the annotated maps of ancient Korriban she'd acquired from the royal library hadn't led her astray yet. In truth she was doing the student a favor, granting him the opportunity to prove himself and earn an advantage over the other students who would all soon face the trials of the grand opening for Kor'ethyr Academy. Provided that he actually survived the night of course.

"A secret passage," her large pupil-less eyes turned to him, eerily under-lit by the light he held.

Oh! She realized suddenly as she took another moment to consider him, Sangir, or something like it. That'll be interesting then.

A'Mia turned back as her fingers seemed to strum across an invisible line of power. Even her impressive eyes could not unravel every mystery passively, and this was old magick. She focused in on it, palm stilling midway up the wall. Without warning she grabbed the boy's free hand and guided it to the spot directly beside hers. Seemingly unaware of the broach of personal space, her intense focus remained directed at the wall.

"Do you feel that?"

A possible teaching moment gave way to impatience and before Rayth had a chance to fully focus on whatever she might have been drawing his attention to, she was speaking in the Old Tongue. Though her notes indicated that intent mattered more than the content of her words.

"These wayfinders seek passage."

Their palms were suddenly illuminated with a deep orange glow and the dragging rasp of stone against stone filled the hallway. She released his palm and straightened up, peering into the newly revealed tunnel.

"Kill the light," she instructed tersely.

And when he did, as their eyes blinked in adjustment, they were greeted by an incredible sight. The path ahead began narrow but soon opened up into a cavern. The walls of which were lined with bioluminescent fungus.

 

[Rayth]

"A secret passage," her large pupil-less eyes turned to him, eerily under-lit by the light he held.

A secret? He imagined that in a place like this that secrets were almost currency. The sith might have exchanged coins, but support, power and knowledge were what they seemed to trade.

Her eyes were strange. Her entire existence did not sit right with him. No pulse, no blood. The Force still moved around her like a lifeform but she was almost offensive to his sensibilities.

It was, however, safer for her. Alone in the dark, there was an easy way to heal his own wounds and all it required was drinking deep. His self control was as fragile as his grasp on the Force.

She placed his hand on the wall and his attention was split between trying to sense whatever she references and listening to her strange words. Instinct - which drove much of his behaviour - demanded he pulled his hand back as he felt the Force move and saw the dull glow. Fear kept it in place.

Rayth flicked off the light as soon as she was instructed. His eyes were more accustomed to the dark corners of Denon, where the lazy sun barely stretched down to reach.

"What..."

Rayth stepped forwards. He was struck by how damp the air was. A start contrast to the cool, but dry air on the other side of the threshold.

 

[Madrona A’Mia]

A'Mia's uncanny gaze followed the young sith as he moved, her affect flat and attention hungry. There was something kindred to him in their shared voracity but hers was intellectual and his corporeal. She finally recalled what his fussy attendant had said about his injuries as her peculiar, force enhanced sight took him in.

"Before we proceed, would you allow me to heal you? It would be unwise to step into the habitat of Tuk'ata and Force knows what else. Also, what may I call you?“

She paused behind Rayth with her query, extending one slender woody hand forward, this time awaiting permission before closing the distance.