Tables Turned [PM for Invite]

[Lord Ghoul]

The ground bucked. Rubble sprayed into his face. Shorn swept a hand across the air, snarling savagely. The rubble exploded into dust and scattered in all directions. Mikhail was panting now, grime covering the front of his jacket and face. He blinked through the dirt.

At Anaya's words his eyes no longer burned blue but a liquid gold tinged by red. The first half of what she said was drowned out by the second. A roaring sound filled Mikhail's ears.

"She is everything!"

Pure aphotic power rippled from him, stretching out like a hand to smack her aside with all the might of a giant's backhand, like she was nothing more than a meddlesome ant. The snap of her bones wouldn't be enough. Mikhail wanted to hear them crunch as he ground her and all his debts to her away.

"And you. You are nothing."

Because that is what she was. That is what she deserved to be.

[member="Anaya Fen"]

 

[Nisha Decrilla]

The telekinetic smack sent her into the crowds, dislocating her shoulder with a sickening pop. Pulling herself up from the tangle of limbs she fell back into the street, her eyes no longer pools of obsidian. His words rang in her ears confirming all her fears. She knew why she didn't deserve anything from him, nor anyone else. She was destructive, anything good that she might have, she drove away with betrayal and manipulation.

Using the force, she put her shoulder back in its place and looked down the street at him. He could kill her, crush her like an ant under his boot, and he wanted to, she could see that in his eyes. Oh how he hated her.

"So do it."

She said softly, moving towards him. "If am nothing to you, then end it."

There were tears in her eyes as she spoke. "Put me out of my MISERY!" Her hand snapped up, lightening leaping from her fingers to curl around him.

[member="Jared Ovmar"] [member="Mikhail Shorn"]

 

[Arage Bao]

[member="Anders Sivas"]

There should have been apathy at those words, but there was only disappointment, disappointment and the vague sense of a time finally coming to a circle. This is how it always should have gone, as it always would go with people like them involved. Andra, Anaya, Shorn and Ovmar… four twisted people, each and every one flawed to such a degree that normal functioning was beyond the realm of possibilities.

One plotted and his entire life was about the webs he spun, the other hated everything himself foremost, but would never have the strength to put an end to it, yet another yearned for that what she would never get and the last constantly got pulled in this or that direction, never stability, always heartache.

In this maelstrom of broken promises, decisions left unmade and commitments taken two things happened at once. While [member="Mikhail Shorn"] was occupied with [member="Anaya Fen"] a blade appeared out of nowhere, it lunged straight for Shorn’s back, piercing it and the spot where his heart should be.

A whisper would reach his ear, or was it the mind inside his presence?

‘A life for a life, we are even now.’

Before the blade cruelly twisted itself, reducing the inside to pulp.

 

[Yasha Cadera]

I never left the cafe. Not till the second I realized [member="Jared Ovmar"] wasn't after me, but the inevitable interjector: my protector, my lover, the father of my surviving children. [member="Mikhail Shorn"]'s declaration spits magma into the growing chill I've suffered since my misadventure in the Nihil Retreat. The truth began before that, at the crux point of Lipsec. Bleeding out on the ground, pouring Jared's intestinal tract back into his body, I was given the taste of the hereafter that has fuelled my intensive increase in visions. The Hereafter touched me, it stole my son to the Goddesses and I once and for all breathe a sigh of utter, compelled relief.

That boy would have been a worse monster than Mikhail.

"Oh Jared." I sigh, but it's not me. It's the thirty seven year old balding accountant who had been huddled in fear. "You killed our son the second you didn't trust me to put Mikhail under. It was and always will be your own fault." A grandmother, gnarled and worn, with Lekku shrivelled by a life in the city.

He needs line of sight. And I have forty pairs of eyes to play with, but moreso I have forty pairs of ears. As I hone in on Jared, I hone in on his breathing, that unescapable sound I bathed in for more than a year. My triangulation is nearly finished. Where are you, Ex-Lover? My jaw grits tight as the sword heaves through Mikhail's chest. I push my index finger into my teeth and bite till I taste copper to avoid giving my position away. Mikhail's sensory perceptions hit me like a starship in hyperspace, I see the ulterior angles, the light bending from thirty sets of eyes: the only ones with line of sight to the sword. My chest feels slick and warm, I know not to look as my fingers grow ice cold.

The Ring of Iasth-Abhai gives me Mikhail's injuries in proxy, in telepathic backlash. I feel them as I feel my own. I have to protect my lover, I feel the slide of water down my face as my enthralled gather around Mikhail. Two take the sword out, others hold him up. It's Anaya who worries me. Jared played his hand. This one is mine.

Oh Anaya. You've been tortured and discarded by too many. Your mind is shambles, your body is as worn as forgotten boots of a world weary soldier. There is nothing left for you, I feel your pain. I hear your plea.

I am mercy. I am grace. I will not stand idle by and let those who are mine slip away. I will not be the confused, lonely survivor.

My telekinetic fingers wrap around [member="Anaya Fen"]'s neck, and I sever her spinal column between the second and third cerebral vertebrae. Quick, painless, immediate. I uncloak and run the few steps to Mikhail and put my hand to his cheek, voice hoarse as if I ran a long distance.

"Mikha!? Mikhail! Don't leave me! You promised! You promised, don't . . . MIKHAIL!!" My flooding tears are unique and real. I cry for Anaya. I cry for Jared. I weep for my lover's touch to alight upon my face.

 

[Lord Ghoul]

Something hit him from behind, jerking him forward several steps. Shorn stumbled and swayed, then tried to stretch a hand out toward Anaya. The hand wouldn't move. He looked down. A foot of alchemized steel jutted from his chest, the razor tip gleaming, slick with scarlet. The deep red of arterial blood dripped slowly from the blade in long strands. Mikhail frowned, still staring.

Strength began to fade from his legs. He stumbled. There was no pain. He didn't understand. The blade twisted. Gore jetted from his chest and he fell forward into the embrace of darkness.

Mikhail Shorn's unconscious body hit the permacrete with a thud.

Seconds later, foreign hands seized his limp form and raised it. Blood drenched the front of his shirt. One of the strangers seized the hilt and drew the blade from his chest. It came out with a squelch. At once, the ring on his left hand began to glow a vibrant emerald hue, the light of which cascaded across those nearby. The Light Side of the Force surged through the unconscious body, a verdurous network that suffused every blood vessel in his body until green light burst from his skin.

The evidence of Mikhail's ruined chest began to fade beneath that light as the body knit itself back together.

Shorn's eyes flared open, as clear a blue as they'd ever been. He heaved in a shuddering breath. Had he been asleep? What had happened? He was suddenly aware of a hand on his cheek. The hand belonged to the one person present who was not warped by the cruelty of life. The one person who would always extend forgiveness to those who asked. Soft fingers stroked his cheek. Mikhail knew then that this was real, that he wasn't dead.

Her touch didn't exist in hell.

[member="Anders Sivas"] [member="Anaya Fen"] [member="Jared Ovmar"]

 

[Nisha Decrilla]

There was something infuriating about having opportunity snatched away from you. This had been her opportunity to find an end, to settle old scores and lay that part of her life to rest. In a heartbeat it was gone. A thousand voices screamed out in Anaya's mind as Mikhail's sneer slid from his face to be replaced with shock. She moved with him as he stumbled forward, taking a step towards him as all the pieces of the puzzle fell into place.

She could feel him, feel the tug of the blood trail she had on her lover. She knew who's hand had snatched away her chance for closure, she wanted to scream at him, to hurt him. Her mouth opened, face contorted with rage as delicate fingers coiled about the vertebrae in her neck.

She had no time to react, no time to recognize the attack. There was a flash of pain and then there was nothing. Nothing but the sight of duracrete rushing up to greet her. Nothing but the noise of the crowd as the screams that had seemed so far away before exploded in her ears. Face down, anaya had one last thought before the shock dragged her into darkness.

I will end you all.

[member="Jared Ovmar"] [member="Mikhail Shorn"] [member="Anders Sivas"]

[Sorry guys! Work took hold and wouldn't let me go.]

 

[Arage Bao]

[member="Anaya Fen"] [member="Mikhail Shorn"] [member="Anders Sivas"] [member="Valik"]

Silence filled the open space, it clung to the walls, the men and women standing vigil for Anders’ will, it was stuck within the hopes and dreams of a pregnant woman trying to do her best in a cold, unforgiving world. Anaya disappeared, so did the sword and just like that the only mark of damage was the formerly bleeding form of Shorn and his clinging woman trying to protect him with all her might.

So easy it would have been to simply end it all there and then. Kill her, kill him, wipe away the debt. But Jared Ovmar had not come here to kill, his goal was not to destroy Shorn, to crush Andra or to even make a statement. Such was not and had never been his way, there were other forces at play and as a soft whispered entered Andra’s mind, things… would become more clear to the girl.

‘You have made me proud, Andra.’ the Sith Lord shared with her, completely ignoring the baseless accusations she had made prior to this. Those outbursts were beneath him, he had outgrown such petty concerns a long time ago. ‘Taking control of these people for your own odds and ends… Lipsec… ah. We will make a competent person of you yet.’

Laughter would fill her ears, seemingly mocking her for everything she stood and everything she had broken by standing here right now. It died down slowly, until finally a single whisper would remain.

‘A suggestion… deliver the babies. Before you do more stupid things, get them killed and blame your new lover for it all.’

Bitterness on his part? A desire to push her towards the edge more? Simple observation coming from a detached individual whose cares were no longer settled in the here and now?

Only Ovmar would know.

Then it was silent again, the men and women on the streets suddenly found something to do, their connection cut from Andra… their lives given back to them. Security cameras found themselves flashed and forgotten, soldiers returning to their duties at once. All evidence, except from physical damage, Shorn and Andra was removed and taken away.

Annaj had been Ovmar’s planet for many years, many many years.

Such is the way of things.

 

[Valik]

As [member="Jared Ovmar"] left he would feel the faintest scent off of Andra's children. As if something was familiar about them. They would feel to him like a pride he had marvelled at before, the master's touch to a sword he held dear, the artist's mark of technology, both conventional and through the force, that he had seen before. As Valik was using a hint of Art of the Small to convey this feeling it was unlikely [member="Anders Sivas"], [member="Anaya Fen"], or [member="Mikhail Shorn"] would be able to detect it without knowledge of the same technique. Though it naturally made Jared more unlikely to understand what he was truly feeling, perhaps mistaking it for the interferance of some force-based mosquito landing on his neck. If Jared was as close to Valik as Valik thought he was he probably wouldn't understand any of it. But if Valik miscalculated? If Ovmar's connection or senses were stronger? Perhaps he'd understand what lay in the Sivas-Shorn's future.

 

[Yasha Cadera]

The whistle of air frothing through thirty sets of years benefits me with whispers and murmurs of [member="Jared Ovmar"]. The Forty search around, those not immediately involved in protecting and covering myself and my lover [member="Mikhail Shorn"] are searching. Questing. I need only one second's worth of a slip.

And I get it. 'This whole thing, loosing [member="Anaya Fen"], killing Mikha, it's all to teach me a lesson? Make me what, a gender bending version of you? Pushing me to act with control?'

I swerve and peer directly at Jared's position, hidden though he is. My hazel and green eyes are wide and willing to take in the space, to know him one last time. Tears splashed against my cheeks, dried now in crinkling lines down to my disgustedly curled lips.

"Mikha. . . Mikha, get up. We-we have to go. Please. Get up." I whisper, one hand busied with brushing the hair out of his face and drifting across his lips and cheeks. The best way to wake Mikhail in the morning has always been the softness of a loving caress. Blaring alarums keyed him up too hotly, too abruptly. The wrong wake up call could make our bedroom shake. . . the tempestuous glory of his viciously powerful mind.

'What are you trying to prove, Jared? That given the circumstances everyone will turn into a bitter hearted Dark Sider, who dishes out pain over patience? Don't do this. Don't make me into your brand of monster. Le-' I stiffen and curl my shoulders inward, putting my hand on Mikhail's stomach and the other behind his neck to pull him to a sitting position. "Mikha you're alive. You're alright, but we've got to get to HQ. I have- I hh-- get up." My jaw clenches as I lose sight of Anaya, as the Forty are released from me. The last charge of my voice is hard, stern and demanding. Get up. It's an order. Annaj has always been Jared's domain. . . and I walked us into it.

Bucket veers around the corner and plants his mechanical feet in a wide stance between us and the throngs. The droid offers his technologically created hand down to help carry Mikhail. I exhale a smooth, still breath, and my mental voice becomes one textured with a hard-lined beskar backbone. 'No. You nor anybody in the universe get to threaten my babies. You don't get to use them as a method of getting to me and you don't get to use them to get to Mikhail. I'm ready to be a Master and a Mom, and I'm not letting you near these kids. You had to lash out. Do that last bit of hurt. Be the orphaned boy who watched his mom die. Don't you dare try to recreate that pain. It's not worth it. It does nothing but make the universe forever frail and I won't have it. The universe is not always a place of chaos and gaping wounds and you know it. My twins are going to grow up strong and unafraid, with both their parents ready to hold them at night and teach them in the day. You meant worlds to me, Jared. I still care that you make a place for yourself. Find peace, Jared. Stop trying to rectify your fethed up life by damning others to it.

This is my family. Mikhail Shorn is mine. I'm having his children and if anyone tries to come between what I'm building, so help me you might find you're proud of me again.'

I am and have forever been fragile. Yet I feel the resolve to continue making stronger choices. After all, I just brought Mikhail Shorn back from the dead and I can do more than this. I pull a Force Cloak over Mikhail and I, blending us into the background until we are gone to all eyes. "Can you run, or are Bucket and I carrying you?"

 

[Lord Ghoul]

Strong arms carried him while soft fingers stroked his cheek. Deep scarlet stained the front of a rent shirt. He could feel the ghost of a sword still stuck in his chest. It sent a shiver through him. His vision faded in and out. What had happened?

An azure gaze dropped down, staring at his body. The hole in his shirt exposed pale, unbroken flesh beneath. The ring... It all came back to Mikhail and his eyes widened.

"The sword- who?" He tried to shake himself out of a droid's unyielding grip and fell to the ground. Adrenaline pulsed through him and he stood quickly.

"What's happening?" Mikhail asked breathlessly. "I'm fine. Just... not used to dying."

He stumbled forward, drawing deeply on the Force to bolster himself, letting the Dark Side flow through his veins and imbibe his body with a strength it shouldn't have. Turns out Dark Side and the Light of Andra's ring didn't mix well. Mikhail's vision turned fuzzy, then black. He pitched forward and unconsciousness took him. Exhausted, he wouldn't wake for some time. Taking a soul-eating sword through the chest tended to take all the spunk out.

[member="Anders Sivas"]