The monsters don't sleep under my bed;They live inside my head.

[Deneve Verd]

It was rare if never that Deneve came to her father in a distressed state. So when she slunk home, completely drunk and slightly panicked the first thing that might alert her father was her being stumbling drunk, she may a habit of ALWAYS remaining alert. The next might be the panicked air about her and slightly crazed look in her eyes soon followed by her loud yelling.

"Old man!I know you're here. Come make yourself useful for once in my life and come help me!"What has started out as drunken sarcasm had turned into a scared girls plea for help from her her father. Walking forward, she stumbled into a stand and caught herself, giving an annoyed growl at the offending object before picking it up and hurling it at his bedroom door.
Something was not right and she knew it. She had felt the beginnings of the issue a couple of years back but had thought it was her being tired.


So when those images began to dance in her head, she gave an annoyed scream and began throwing things around the house, her anger and fear spiking before the panic attack began."GET OUT OF MY HEAD!"She would scream before grabbing her head and slumping down in the absolute mess she had made. Her breath came in and out in panicked gasps, her attempt to fight off what was a panicked attack apparent.


[member="Isley Verd"]

 

[Darth Metus]

Slam.

Thump.

Crash.

At once, the Mandalorian was roused from his slumber; for a storm had entered his dwelling. These days, it was a rarity for anyone aside from Isley to come to his personal abode. Lilith was off on "business" and Deneve...well, she was always a scarce sight at his home. As such, when the noise began, the waking Isley thought himself under assault. He jolted upright, realizing just how vulnerable her had made himself. His beskar'gam stood upon a rack in the corner of the room. His armory was downstairs. All that Isley had within reach was the Darksaber. It would do.

The Force yanked the ancient weapon into his grasp and Isley left his bed. He expected some sort of actual adversary to be waiting outside of his door...but instead, he was greeted with the sight of a rather distressed child. His child. "What th-?" he began, placing his cherished weapon upon the hallway dresser. "Deneve, what's going on?" he asked, intentionally keeping his voice soft. Was she in trouble? Had she tangled with the wrong group during her brawls?

Lowering himself to a knee, Isley attempted to take his distressed child into his embrace.

"I'm here. Tell me what's going on."

[member="Deneve Verd"]

 

[Deneve Verd]

She barely reacted when he took her in his embrace. Normally, some smart remark would be given. Not today. The dull pain had turned into a piercing stab. The images that danced within her mind began spinning faster than speeding up. "Something is wrong. They won't get out of my head.."

Biting back a whimper, she gripped his hand, hard enough that her nails would pierce his flesh, a strange smile placing itself upon her visage at causing another pain. Gritting her teeth, she would suddenly shove him back, hard enough that he would move but not hard enough to cause him any harm. Deneve's hands quickly moved to rub at her temples, attempting to rub away that pain. "Stay back, the desire to see someone bleed out keeps dancing in my head.."

[member="Isley Verd"]

 

[Darth Metus]

For the average man, these symptoms would boggle the mind. Some would think it literal madness or some other mentally-related ailment. However, Isley was a man who had dabbled in the Darkest depths of the Force. As an Alchemist, he knew the consequences of diving in too deep. As a Sorceror, he knew just what his child was going through. He did not fling as her nails pierced his flesh, nor did he bat an eye when he was shoved away. The first thing that he did was address the current episode.

Only then could they discern the root of the problem.

Isley plucked the Ring of Umber from his finger and seized her hand. In her current state, there wouldn't be much she could do to prevent him from sliding the Ankarres Wood creation onto her thumb. It would be an awkward fit, no doubt, but the moment the wood met her skin...there would be relief. The Dark Side clearly wanted what it could not have. Isley had turned his back...so now the Darkness wanted his daughter. This reality crashed down upon his shoulders.

"Deneve, tell me, have you been to any ruins lately? Wielded anything dark? Been around any Alchemists or Sorcerors you don't know? This is important. Very important."

[member="Deneve Verd"]

 

[Deneve Verd]

"Your sword. I've had it since you threw me in the drop pod.. But, that was over two years ago... I mean, I've been around An alchemist. I would hope I know him. I married him.."

She glanced at her father, studying him. Noticing the slight reprieve that she had from the assault. She leaned her head forward into her lap, her arms moving to wrap about the top of her head. Her fingers tapping against her flesh in a rapid manner, the rhythm helping to soothe her. Sparing at him a glance, she would focus her attention on the slightly ruined room and wince.

"Can we please discuss this later. I'm tired dad.."


[member="Isley Verd"]

 

[Darth Metus]

Married? An Alchemist?

No. No. No. Shelve it. That could be discussed later. Right now, the Mandalorian had to swallow the literal tsunami of "what the kark" which raged in his mind. He had to focus on the issue at hand: the source of his daughter's ailment.

"Don't take that ring off." he instructed. "The longer you wear it, the more relief you'll have. It's strong enough to dispel some of the most malevolent affects on the mind but it takes time to work its magic."

He paused. Deborah's Song was powerful, but he was but a novice when he had crafted it. While it was a full-fledged Sith Sword, a masterwork even, Isley doubted that it could ravage his child's mind. An Alchemist though? A full-fledged one of any sufficient skill? Simply being around their Forge, Home, or even person could result in such a thing.

"It's only going to get worse if we don't talk about it now, Deneve. The Ring is a but a bandage on a large wound. I need you to tell me about this Alchemist. Have you been inside his home? Seen where he does his work? I need to know if you've been at the epicenter of his craft."

[member="Deneve Verd"]

 

[Deneve Verd]

"Of course I have.."

She gave an exasperated sigh, before tilting her head to the side her lips pursing into a frown. Sighing, she moved to stand up, suddenly feeling crowded bu his concern, something she wasn't really used to.
"Would my hanging around with a bunch of Sith have anything to do with this?"

Deneve would question softly, moving to pick up the broken pieces of things and place them into a pile whilst she tried to gather her thoughts. Suddenly her annoyance flared she turned to face him, her eyes narrowing as she stalked closer to him, her movements sure. Drawing back, she threw a punch at him. "This is your fault! Maybe if you gave me so middle ground and didn't only come to me when I needed you then I would know better. But, no, It is extreme opposites to you. Have you not realized that I am my mother's child you arse!"

She hated this, reaching out to him, she was a prideful creature and thus showing this weakness, this need for her father to help her made her livid... Fuming, she stepped back and glowered at him before yanking the ring off. "Fix this. without me having to take something else from you.."


@ Isley Verd

 

[Darth Metus]

"Because you are my child, hanging around Sith can indeed have this affect." he began, easing his rear onto the floor. He parted his lips, as if to say more, but was suddenly greeted by a youthful retort. This was new territory for the both of them: the first time in recent history that Isley actually felt needed by his daughter. He wouldn't let her down. He couldn't.

"Calm down." he said, folding his arms.

"The same thing that you are going through has happened to me. It cost me many years of my life...forced to watch as a Darth Metus used my body as a puppet. The Dark Side wants you, Deneve. It always has. Hanging around another Alchemist is making that hunger even greater. Somehow. Someway. It's gotten inside you; into your head. Now there's only a handful of things we can do to prevent you from becoming another Metus."

He pointed to the Ring.

"You can either block it out, using the Light or trinkets born from it. You can run and avoid Alchemists and the Darkness altogether. Or. You can overcome it. Turn the Darkness from hunted to hunted. Use it as your tool."

She was his child. There was only really one choice she would make.

"When you're ready, we'll build your Forge. I'll show you how to control this."

[member="Deneve Verd"]

 

[Deneve Verd]

It irked her how well he knew her decisions before she herself did. Running from the dark side wasn't an option. It would never be again. Not after she had gone and married who she had. Taking a deep breath so that she might center herself, she would turn eyes the same color of his on him and arch a brow , showing him her displeasure at his knowing her.

"You'll help me?No questions asked?"She expelled a sigh, turning her full attention on him, her lips parting to so that she might say something smart. Shaking her head, she realized she would not be cruel to him. He was there when it counted. She knew he always would be. No matter how upset she could be he would always be her father, he would be the first person she ran to for comfort.


So it was when she had accepted the situation and calmed down that she began looking at things logically. On the positive side of this, she would get to spend time with her father be it not the idea situation but hey, she'd take time with him where she got it.

"Alright, I'm ready. Let's do this."


[member="Isley Verd"]

 

[Darth Metus]

"Of course I will. You're my child."

Maybe the Mandalorian wasn't uber terrible at this fatherhood thing after all.

After Deneve affirmed what Isley already knew, he would lead the way down from the living room. The descent would take them past the training rooms, past the archives, and into a rather dark and damp part of the lower levels. Isley had, at one point, intended to replace the Forge lost at Castle Ne'tra at this level...but never steeled himself enough to do so. For so long he had teetered on the edge of a decision: to abandon the Darkness or to Embrace it. Repairing the Darksaber showed him the path of Light. It inspired the creation of the Ring of Umber...it would have made Rave proud. Yet the Darkness...it made him who he was, mistakes and all. His strength? His renown? All byproducts of the shadow.

But he couldn't. He wouldn't be a slave to it. Never again.

Once the pair arrived in the basement, Isley took a moment to ignite one of the torches lining the space. The fire cast a bright illumination about the room, revealing a rough circle of stones that had been erected previously. "Before we begin...there's something you should know. Someone you should know. His name is Darth Metus."

At the mere mention of the anathema, a rare occurrence transpired. The shackles were loosened ever so slightly, and the Sith was permitted to speak. A telepathic hiss erupted from Isley's psyche, addressing both the Mandalorian and his child.

You've grown so much, oh child mine.​

[member="Deneve Verd"]

 

[Deneve Verd]

"You mean the side of you that you tried to hide but failed at a lot of the time?"

This question wasn't meant as disrespect, it was a simple truth voiced into a loaded question. It was then that she looked at her father and shook her head in exasperation , a simple smile playing upon her lips, as she glanced upon the room. Stepping forward, she would actually look around before turning to give her father a long look. "I refuse to think of you two as different entities . The soon you except each other the better. "

It was then that she acknowledged the darker side of her father that was lurking. "Hello father number two!" She chirped a bit too happily. He needed to understand that he was her father and therefore she would accept every part of him with no questions asked, she didn't care about the horrible things Metus supposedly made him do. "You acted and Metus was the result. Cause and affect. You can't just lock him away because in a way its your fault father.."

It was then that she walked further into the room and began studying it intently for a few long moments in silence. "This is where we will work?" She would finally ask, a sudden feeling of liking this room greatly.

[member="Isley Verd"]

 

[Darth Metus]

Father Number Two...Yes and no.

The response of the anathema hung in the air. It was a void, one that the Mandalorian filled with his own response.

"Metus is an example of the worst case scenario of what you're going through." he said, much to the audible chagrin of the Sith Lord. "When exposed to external stimuli, such as the Dark Lord of the Sith, your affliction can develop into something akin to Metus. In my case, the Dark Lord had intended for Metus to come about all along: a means of keeping a budding alchemist in check."

However, steeping one's self in the Darkness, actively and passively, facilitated my growth Deneve. It allowed me to take control. We do not know if what you are going through is a similar trial: a result of a singular entity's attempt to control you. But that is a chance we cannot take.

With that said, the elephant in the room needed addressing. For years the two had battled for control, never recognizing the other as apart of them. Yet when Isley was on the run from the reign of Salem Norongachi, it was the essence of Metus that had protected his sibling. When Metus stole his body, those bearing the name Verd were still protected. Why. Why was that?

I care about all that you do, Isley. Your feelings and memories...your bonds...they are an affliction that I cannot change. What you feel, so do I.

The Anathema allowed his words to be heard by both Deneve and the Mandalorian. Then it was back to the matter at hand.

This is where we will work, yes.
"And to start, we need blood..."
Your blood.

"The Forge will be an extension of you. As a result, you will have a bond with every creation that is born from it. This is accomplished by blood. When you are ready..."

Deneve was a warrior. She had a blade on her, of this Isley had no doubt.

"You need not contribute much. Cut your hand and let it bleed free over the Forge. Then, repeat these words. Let the Force flow through each syllable. Let the Darkness flow through you."

And by this, you will control the Darkness. You will learn to proceed with caution, to build the proper walls: to protect yourself. You will be the sole master of your body and mind.

And with that said, the Anathema and the Mandalorian uttered the chant. Repeating it for their child.

[member="Deneve Verd"]