Private The Lights Are On, But Nobody's Home

[Rook Merriex]

​

Location: Astral Shore, Netherworld
Tags: Brandyn Sal-Soren

​

The craggy earth beneath Rook's feet seemed to buzz as dust and detritus vibrated on the surface. At first, she thought little of it; the Netherworld shifted and reformed of its own accord all the time. This time, though, she sensed something larger at play. The buzzing turned to rumbling, then to shaking. The twilight sky that was normally placid in this region began to churn angrily. Flurries of snow whooshed in the breeze that was steadily picking up, tossing Rook's shoulder-length hair as is blew past her. She reached for a pair of binoculars and held them to her face. Even from this distance, she could make out the ghastly silhouettes of demons of every pedigree. They were ravenous, descending violently upon a near-perfect replication of Theed, albeit one that was weathered and devoid of natural life. She'd never seen anything like this before. It made her heart flutter with a glimmer of hope.

She scooped up her bag and the makeshift sword she'd come treat as an extenstion of herself, and set off in a jog toward the coalescing cloud of ephemeral energies on the horizon.

"Don't get your hopes up," she said bitterly to herself. "Just because you haven't seen this before-" she hopped over a small pit along the stone catwalk that connected her island to the next "-doesn't mean that it's a way out." It was easier said than done, however, to not have hope for freedom. An escape. A way out.

Theed was just as she remembered it. At least, just as she remembered this mirrored version of it. Inky tendrils of dark matter coiled around the buildings. They writhed and slinked away as she jogged by, almost hissing at the passing light from her lamp. Rook's eyes constantly darted between the vortex that swirled overhead and the street as she moved, balancing haste with stealth. The last thing she needed was to alert a pack of demons to her presence. She'd come to learn that they view life itself as a perversion. There would be no mercy for her if she were discovered. Rook clutched the hilt of her sword tightly as she approached Theed Palace's courtyard. Flurries of snow -or was it ash?- swirled all around her, and for a moment, she swore she could hear... whispers.

Rook ignored them for now, turning her focus to the reason she came to this false Theed to begin with. Ahead, near the top of the stairs leading to the Royal Palace, was her mark. A thinning of the veil between worlds had formed, and while it was only the slightest beginnings of a tear, she was confident she could break through. She placed her lamp carefully on the soot-stained marble beneath her boots and reached out with a gloved hand. Her fingertips were met with a strange temporal resistance in much the same way as holding two opposing magnets against one another. The pressure was difficult to see, but she could feel it greatly. "C'mon..."

She pushed against it with some force. The air around the point began to distort, warping and stretching like an event horizon, but it wasn't budging. "Dammit, c'mon!" she growled. Her frustration was warranted, but dangerous. The startling crack of a wooden board in the distance make Rook turn her head on a swivel, snapping her lavender orbs on the source of the noice. From behind a pile of charred rubble emerged a canine demon. "Hellhounds!" Rook hissed. She was running out of time. Two more hellhounds crept behind the first to emerge, which was much larger - clearly the alpha of the pack.

Desperate not to meet her end so close to the escape she'd been waiting 14 years for, Rook gripped her broadsword with both hands and plunged the blade through the veil. A scorching burst of energy rushed over her bare forearms. Rook screamed in pain but held her ground, pulling the blade upward with all the strength she could muster to slice the tear open. Snarling maws were gaining on her now. She could hear their padded feet thumping against the cracked marble square as they bounded for her, hungry for flesh and blood. With one more push, Rook ripped the veil in an upward slash. The force of pure aetherial energy rushing into the vacuum of the Netherworld from the other, brighter side made Room stumble backwards. She snatched her bag and lamp up with her free arm, tucked her head into her elbow, and dashed forward with a gutteral, "rrrrRRAAAAGGGHHH!"

Everything got very dark and cold, then suddently bright. Her eyes burned as if she were staring at the sun... and thankfully, she was. After 14 years of hiding, scrounging, sneaking, fighting... she could see the sun.

Location: Present Day, Naboo

Rook fell through the rift and landed on her shoulder. Her sword, lamp, and bag were knocked from her person, scattering across the unmarred marble courtyard of present-day Theed - the same Theed she was torn from all those years ago. Every instinct in her body told her to get up and run, but she could feel the warmth of the setting sun on her cheek and knew that she was safe. Or at the very least, she would die on Nabooian soil should the hellhound pack leap through the tear behind her and eat her where she lay. It was an unlikely scenario, but not impossible; the thought forced Rook to roll over and glare at the rift for any signs of Nether demons on her tail, but to her surprise, there was no portal.

The only thing that stood there was a man who looked reasonably puzzled by her sudden appearance. She smiled awkwardly, simply glad to see another human... even if it was from an awkward reverse-prone position on the ground.

"Hi," she mustered. "I'm Rook."

 

[Brandyn Sal-Soren]

He knew this street. He had walked this street as a boy. He remembered holding his mother's hand and asking her a thousand questions. She had never tired of answering them. One of his sisters would have been not to far away, and ready to roll their eyes at each new question. They likely even tried answering the questions with varying degrees of accuracy.

Not more than a month ago this memory would have caused him to shrink in despair. More recent events were still fresh and traumatic, but his parents death was an event that seemed to be changing in his memory. No, there was no despair. Now, there was guilt.

He was happy. He had recovered his relationship with his elder sister. If he were honest, they had never been closer. They talked multiple times each day, and rarely showed any of their former antagonism. It helped that they had a mutual project. It was strange that that helped.

The happiness though was likely more a result of the continued joy of life with Cybelle. Despite even recent traumas, she had found an anchor in one another, forgiveness and wholeness. It was a love that had finally made manifest the man that he didn't know he needed to be. She had changed him. He had finally let her.

He had been standing in front of one of the many monuments to those lost in the Cataclysm. In many ways, Theed was still recovering. For the planet as a whole, it may never be the same. Hopefully, with the new political ventures it would be better. Better because of what was...and what was lost. The loss could mean something.

Just like everything he had lost. His father. His mother. That...other Teyla.

He felt unsettled by the thought of that young woman he had killed while protecting Cybelle. He had come to his own conclusion that it had been a dream. Cybelle did not agree. For him though, it had to be a dream. If it wasn't, he would not function.

Brandyn felt a chill run up his spine. Something was wrong beyond just those few errant thoughts. Out of the corner of his eyes he noted a warping of the air. His senses flared and his hand reached immediately for his lightsaber. It snapped into life and hummed as the smell of ozone hit his nose from its movement through the air.

Before he sensed the person, he saw them. They bundled through the tear in the air and onto the ground. Brandyn had already taken the few steps he needed to to be standing over her. His eyes flicked back and forth from her to the warped air which was quickly dissipating.

She looked up, and spoke.

Brandyn frowned.

"Hey Rook...name's Brandyn..."

He looked up again.

"...was that what I think it was?"

His stomach had sunk. He knew the answer. Happiness slipped away.

Rook Merriex
fyi, Briana Sal-Soren Cybelle Sal-Soren

 

[Rook Merriex]

Tags: Brandyn Sal-Soren
Location: Theed, Naboo

"I-I-" she stamered. She didn't know how to confirm it, mostly because she didn't quite know what it meant. After a brief moment to gather herself and steady her breathing, which was incredibly sporadic as her lungs acclimated to the untainted Naboo atmosphere, she spoke. "It was a rift." The way he looked at her with his lightsaber brandished confirmed that he knew what she meant. "I didn't create it, I found it. I had to rip it open to get away. I'm... sorry."

Rook looked up at him with fear in her lavender eyes, which seemed to glow dimly the more upset she got. They were glittering now as she wondering whether he would help her to her feet or simply kill her like any good Nabooian would do with something that fell from a Netherworld portal. Carefully, she raised a hand, silently requesting his trust. All she needed was a few moments to explain... everything.

How she was separated from her family and fell into the Netherworld during the Cataclysm.

How she survived for ages on the other side, alone.

How the one person who fell in with her had turned his back on her.

How even now, with his weapon ready to kill her if she proved a threat, she was grateful to see another living soul.

"I'm not dangerous," she risked to say. "But something dangerous is coming. That rift wasn't an accident, as much as it may seem to be. Something is happening in the Netherworld."