The Time Traveler's Lament

[Vereshin]

Influence of Organism - Oneiroid Psychosis​

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Shifting uncomfortably in his bed, which the nurses had very rudely strapped him to, Vereshin peered through the slit blinds of his room. Sunlight poured in, relieving him from the darkness of the hospital. It was an odd thing for Vereshin to think, but he was sick of darkness. Spending years in a black hole had made him appreciate light, but for how long, he could not tell. With an intravenous drip strapped to his hand, he rustled beneath the various contraptions the hospital had stuck into him to monitor his condition.

"Excuse me, Madam, but my catheter has been full for quite some time." Vereshin said to the nurse working beside his bed.

The woman had been grumpy the whole time, probably having been informed of his actions and the fact that he used to be a Sith. As far as Vereshin was concerned, that was not excuse for being rude. He demanded to be treated like any of the other patients. Giving her a wide look with his glowing, green eyes, he pointed to the tube leading beneath his blanket, raising his eyebrows persistently. Without a word, the nurse stormed over and ripped the tube from his person, which hurt slightly, causing him to lash out.

"Careful with that!" He hissed, smacking her hands. When the nurse finished emptying the catheter and hooking it back up, rather roughly, Vereshin gave her a plain look, his top lip upturned. She withdrew her hands from his sheets and stood back, then turned around to leave. "Thank you." Vereshin said as he walked out of the room with a grunt. Once she was gone, his features collapsed into a vicious scowl.

"queen." He hissed.

The door swung open, revealing another one of the hospital workers, only this one was not a local doctor, but rather a powerful Sith who had come to research the effects of time travel on Vereshin. While Vereshin was not overly keen to share his knowledge, he had little say in the matter, as he was in a strange faction with nowhere to go and no permanent home, so for as long as he needed the time to recover, he was this Sith's guinea pig. After all, he would have liked to talk magic with another sorcerer, especially one as powerful as Lord Timorem. The distinctive scarlet features of the Pureblood Sith stood in the doorway, which Vereshin greeted with his usual sweet smile.

"Hello Lord Timorem, it is a pleasure." The time travelling sorcerer said kindly, his hands folded on his lap. "I'm Vereshin, but I go by "Vi" if you like." He offered the Sith Lord his nickname, then leaned back against his pillow, his joints still aching from being squashed by the black hole. While he would have liked to go outside, he was at least thankful that while he was in the hospital, he could not run into any of his past selves. With the help of Lord Timorem, the stray versions of himself could be rectified and aligned with the passage of time at which he now proceeded.

A pause followed, filled by the slight wave of Vereshin's hand as he allowed the Sith Lord inside. With a thud, the door closed behind him and they sat alone, two anomalies of space and time, one who traversed dimensions and the other who dove head first into a black hole. Rubbing his face, Vereshin felt a pang of sudden disgust when he touched the budding stubble on his chin. He needed to make himself presentable before he went out into the galaxy again, for now, he needed to be physically prepared for the feat if correcting his reference frame in time.

"Yes." Vereshin said, almost sadly. "It was quite the ride, gravity squashing me into a ball so dense that the time around it slowed down." He recalled the experience with a certain nostalgia, thinking back to when he had set foot on the shuttle with Tsisaar. Being in the black hole had been surreal in itself, it had seemed so much more vast than it had truly been, as though he waited idly in a dimension untouched by the physical universe. Squaring his hands to the side, Vereshin involuntarily tried to convey the gravity squashing him into a ball and the time around it slowing down.

"But what was inside? Well, I think that will interest you the most." Vereshin said, revealing a smile of pitch black teeth.

"Now, I could kill a queen for a cup of tea and a cigarette." He growled, throwing his hands down. If he was going to talk differential nonsense with a stranger, it would require at least three cigarettes and a cup of tea. "Where's that grumpy nurse?" Vereshin asked, looking around.

[member="Darth Timorem"]

 

[Vargr]

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Wearing: Sith Robes​

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Wielding: Crimson Blade​

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[member=Vereshin]​

The elderly sith stood in the door. His robes trailing around his feet, merely inches off the floor. They were not heavy, nor were they as restraining as the Dark Lord imagined the weary time traveller might feel. He took a step forward. The metal of his boots clinking as he started his steady gait towards the man who had experienced true darkness, but not in the typical sense, no. Not in the sense most would describe. This man had experienced the darkness of a void so great, not even the brightest of lights could pierce it. Before ten seconds could pass, Timorem was standing next to the Time Traveller's bed. He placed his hands easily on the brim of his hood, pulling it back, down onto his back.

He also wore the yellow tinted, red eyes of one gifted with the powerful corruption of the Dark Side. A beautiful glow was compacted to the iris, red as flowing blood, bright as the crimson blade he unhooked from his belt, placing it on the Traveller's table. The Sith Pureblood then sat down in a chair. At the same moment, a presence in the force settled in the room, one only rivalled by the Dark Lords of the Sith of Ancient Times. Lords such as Darth Sidious, or Darth Vitiate. Emperor Palpatine, and Emperor Valkorion as they were respectively known to the public.

"So you're the one they say travelled through a black hole, and survived?"

It was nothing if not a feat of sear impossibility, let alone accounting for where he came from, something that Timorem supposed would also be part of his purpose here. One the Dark Lord supposed he had brought upon himself, as he had come upon his own volition, from the other side of Confederate space. It was not everyday one found somebody in such a similar field of power, after all, were Time Travel and Inter-Dimensional Travel not similar enough they shared principles so unique to them that they were merely different adaptations of the same thing?

This was all inconsequential though, or was it? A matter of further debate. What mattered was the man's reaction. The Dark Lord's voice held the bitter anger of a Dark Lord of the Sith, one who had fuelled himself, and preserved himself through anger for thousands of years? So close to a Myrietḗ. Yet it mattered not. He had outlived one of the most powerful Sith to ever live by nearly quintuple. To stray back to the topic of his voice, while it held the bitterness, and the roughness of a Sith Lord, it also held the ever-present smooth, calm tone of the Sith Purebloods that he called himself a fine example of.

Then the man spoke again, accounting for just a fraction of what must've truly happened to him within the Black Hole. After that there was an eerie silence, but not a lack of presence as there might be in this sort of situation, no. The room was filled with the raw power, as it refined itself, shaped itself, and formed around the Dark Lord Timorem, but only for a mere split, fraction of a second before it dissipated, mutating back into the seemingly insurmountable raw power it was. After a few more moments of this silence, Timorem had melted the power down, refined it, then forged it into shape, then presence, then a message. A ripple through the force itself, though not from Timorem, a form of telepathy, but not with the Dark Lord's voice, his power that filled the room, the power he had melted and forged into his will.

If you seek an answer, you will not find one here.​

And with that, Lord Timorem resigned himself to sitting in his chair.

 

[Vereshin]

A powerful presence overwhelmed the room, rivaled only Vereshin's own. Inhaling, he lapped up the power Darth Timorem radiated like honey, finding solace in the aura of an equally powerful Force user. Vereshin noted Timorem's traditional robes, something he had never cared for during his time with the Sith. The physicist was more comfortable in his long, black coat and suit pants, having discarded the deep rooted traditions of the order he had once been a part of. For now, he appeared before Timorem without his signature vestments, his state vulnerable and within reach of the Sith Lord's harm, but Vereshin showed no fear.

"That's me, although I wonder how much of me was left behind on the other side." Vereshin mused aloud, placing a finger against his chin in thought. Indeed, when the black hole had dragged his frame of reference back, his future had effectively been erased and replaced with his past as it recurred. With his finger still placed against his chin, he withdrew at the thought, which unnerved him only slightly, his anticipation aroused with the promise of new discoveries. Turning back around, he beheld Timorem with a coy smile and folded his hands on his stomach, his features practically beaming with the attainment of his feat, despite the consequences it inevitably brought.

"No matter, my future, as it would have unfolded, is something I am glad to have bypassed." With a slight shake of his head, Vereshin looked out the window, harboring the knowledge that the events of his past would simply unfold as the effective present. The future could be changed, depending on his actions in the present, but the past would always catch up with him. Fiddling with the straps around his wrists, he shifted to the side and faced Timorem. "However, the events of my will reoccur as the effective present, which in turn, will proceed into the future." The time traveler lamented, his brow furrowing slightly with regret.

In the pause that followed, Darth Timorem's force signature seethed unhindered and manifested in the form of a message. The words arrived in Vereshin's mind through telepathy, in a tone of refusal. Whether the Sith Lord was outright refusing to give Vereshin an answer, or whether he was simply unable to was not clear, but the message was received with the narrowing of the time traveler's eyes and a slight smirk. Vereshin tilted his to the side, unswayed by the Sith Lord's message. Any answers he needed, he would not require Timorem's help in finding. There was a further pause and he shifted beneath his restraints, drawing back his features with bemusement.

"Kark me, all I asked for was a cup of tea and a cigarette." Vereshin said, his tone heavy with sarcasm. With a roll of his eyes, he sighed and gave up pulling at his restraints, then slumped back against his pillow. There was some truth in Timorem's words, Vereshin would not be able to rectify his past while he was stuck in a hospital. He needed to get out, so he could start to follow the events of his past as they repeated themselves, in the hope of re-aligning them with the passage of time. Turning around, he looked directly into the Sith Lord's eyes and raised an arched eyebrow.

"If you get these binds off me, I can set out to find my answer." Vereshin said, shifting beneath the Force-restraints around his wrists.

"I'm offering you a chance to learn from me, Lord Timorem, if let me go after you finish conducting your tests." Vereshin said, waiting patiently for Timorem to undo his Force-restraints, without the authority of the hospital. By conducting tests on Vereshin, Timorem would be able to study the effects of time travel and possibly learn how to attain the feat himself, all Vereshin asked in exchange was for him to release him from the hospital once he had finished conducting his tests. "The black hole slowed the rate at which I proceed through time, which could have very remarkable results in the way of cheating death." Vereshin offered, eyeing Timorem suggestively from the side. Indeed, when Vereshin's frame of reference had been dragged, the rate at which he moved through time had been slowed and potentially the rate at which he aged.

"I do not need your help in rectifying my past, but I don't intend on spending the next few weeks here." Vereshin said, rather firmly.

[member="Darth Timorem"]

 

[Vargr]

The Sith Lord decided it best to heed the Time Traveller's request. He looked over to the nurse without moving an inch, using the eyes of the force to observe her. She was staring directly at them, albeit from the doorway, and the Sith Lord raised his hand, ordering her to get two cups of tea, and a cigarette. He knew the woman had heard the request of the Traveller, and knew what the signal meant. When she hesitated, her hands raised with one of Timorem's own, and gripped her throat, the slight pressure the Sith Lord putting on it with the force caused her to start choking herself worse, deception, an art Timorem was well versed with. When Timorem let go of the small pressure he was applying, the woman let go, and rushed off, whether she told anybody of what had happened he did not know. But she was back within five minutes, bringing tea and a cigarette, which Timorem grabbed with the force, passing to the hands of his newly acquainted friend.


"My dear nurse, would you be so troubled as to fetch me my briefcase, that I left by the desk?"

The Dark Lord then watched as the Traveller placed the cigarette in his mouth.

"Need a light?"

Timorem then lit the tip of the cigarette with a small use of force pyrokinesis. Then rested his own cup of tea on a stand by the Traveller's bed, before he pulled his hood back, and lifted his helmet off, revealing the dark red eyes, so corrupted with the power of the Dark Side, they were a deep, glowing red instead of the normal yellow. His visage, otherwise, was rather similar and typical of the most noble and notorious of his Pureblooded kin, dark red skin, like a fine red wine, with hollow cheeks, and two tendrils hanging from his upper lip, his jaw line was adorned with spikes pointing inward. The features of ferocious Dark Lords of the Sith from his time, Dark Lords who waged war on each other to prove their power, Dark Lords who could have crippled the current Galaxy with their combined power.

Much like common members of his species, he was bald, completely. He looked like he had never had hair in his life, which was very true. He took the tea back into his hand, lifting it to his lips, he sipped on the warm, imported tea, then looked over at the nurse, who had not left yet. He put the tea back down, and grabbed her by the throat, lifting her up, and throwing her into an empty bed, where she hit her head on the cold, metal head-piece, knocking herself out. He then walked out, and returned a minute later, holding his brief-case. He then sat back down, and unclipped two latches, opening it. He then pulled a food table over, and set it down. He then grabbed his lightsaber.

"Be still, I am no doctor, but my cuts are precise. However, if you struggled against your restraints, I could very much accidentally cut off a limb."

He then activated his lightsaber, the crimson blade filling the room with it's red glow. He then brought it close to the metal restraints that required a passcode and DNA unlock by the heads of the Hospital. A hospital he was not even an employee of, let alone a head. Then, the lightsaber made contact with the first restraint on the left, and moved slowly through, cutting it off, he then moved down, making the same cut to the restraint on the left side, keeping Vereshin's legs in place. He then moved to the right side of the bed, and grabbed the metal piece, which was putting slight pressure on Vereshin's right side, and cut the leg restraint off, and threw it to the side, clattering by the nurse's bed, he did the same for the torso restraint. Which was simply restraining him from moving his torso, but kept his arms free.

The Dark Lord then put his deactivated lightsaber on his belt, and raised a hand, undoing the simple force restraints put in place on the Traveller.

 

[Vereshin]

Vereshin waited patiently in his bed as Timorem heeded his request. A devilish grin crept onto his features at the sight of Timorem choking the nurse through the Force, her fear palpable in the air. In an instant, the Sith Lord held her life in his hands and could take it away with merely a nuance if she disobeyed, but Timorem let her keep it and sent her rushing off to collect Vereshin's tea and cigarettes, her place having been learned. Satisfied, Vereshin nodded, only to smile at the nurse when she returned, carrying a cup of tea on a tray, along with a few cigarettes. She placed it on his lap and turned back around to face Timorem, who ordered her to fetch his briefcase.

'Thank you, My Lord." Vereshin said, still held fast by the restraints. He did not think that the nurse was clever enough to realize that he needed his hands free to drink his tea.

After the nurse rushed off to retrieve the Sith Lord's briefcase, Timorem leaned over to place the cigarette in Vereshin's mouth, a considerate gesture, the time traveller thought. He bit the end and nodded in thanks as Timorem snapped his fingers to create a small flame and lit the end. With the cigarette held firmly between his teeth, Vereshin inhaled and blew smoke out the side of his mouth, awkwardly moving around the white cylinder with his tongue. The relief came instantly, soothing the cramps which knotted his innards and loosening them. He leaned back on his pillow with an ecstatic sigh, his eyelids fluttering as he took long, introspective drags.

When the nurse returned, Timorem immediately grabbed her by her throat and threw her across the room, onto the opposite bed. As she slumped down and grasped her neck, Vereshin exchanged a disapproving glance with her from the side, the cigarette hanging out his mouth. Now that they were alone, Timorem could relieve him of his restraints, which he did so by cutting them very gently with his lightsaber. The blade came down and Vereshin watched it warily, his eyes wide as the heat scorched his wrists. The Sith Lord was careful and cut through the restraints neatly, leaving barely a scratch on Vereshin, who shook the cramps out of his wrists and swiped the cigarette from his mouth, blowing smoke into the air.

"Ooh, that feels good." He said, with a ring of emphasis. Indeed, it felt like weeks since he had been able to use his powers, now they returned to him, stronger than they had ever been.

Twiddling his fingers, Vereshin reached down to stir a drop of milk and some sugar into his cup of tea, which he raised to his lips and sipped. He took a longer, further sip to savor the taste and set his cup down with a clank, then turned to face Timorem. There was a glint in his lime green eyes as he channeled his energy, preparing to cast. Although the Sith Lord had been kind, Vereshin simply was not intent being his guinea pig. Stretching his fingers, he placed the tray on the side table and knelt up in bed, shoving off the covers to give him some leverage between the bed and the window. Muttering to himself, he looked onto the street below and saw it just a small jump, then face Timorem with a huge, cheeky smile on his face.

"Darth Timorem, I do thank you for your hospitality, but I'm afraid I have no intention of being your subject." Vereshin said jovially, kneeling on top of the bed. He took out his catheter and drip, a manic twinkle in his eye and spun around, then planted his palms against the window. He dissipated the mass beneath them and phased straight through to the other side.

"Reee!" Vereshin cried as he shot through the wall. The matter rippled where he had left, before settling in it's place and holding still, as though nothing had happened. The cold air hit Vereshin, who was wearing nothing but a hospital gown with an open back. He was not phased by the temperature, or the gown flying upon and showing off his pale, taut backside as he ran to the front of the hospital, out the gates and down the street. As he turned a corner, he shot a hand and destroyed the light making him visible, masking his appearance and fading out of sight. The dirty concrete punctured the soles of his feet as he ran, the roof of his hotel in sight.

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The first thing Vereshin did when he got back to his h0tel room was take a long, hot bath. The lights were dim, the sun was disappearing and the door was locked as he reclined in the tub and shaved, having not had the chance to do so while he was in hospital. A layer of steam hovered above the water, where equations danced above his head, the derivative of his position in time becoming increasingly pressing as he became readjusted to life on the other side. With half his face covered in shaving cream, he slid the razor over, then gave his hair a trim, before rinsing.

As the water began to cool, the time travelling sorcerer pulled himself out the bath and stepped onto the mat on the floor, gripping the edge for balance. He grabbed a towel and wrapped it around his waist, then flung another over his shoulders to keep him warm. Feeling refreshed and clean, he walked into the bedroom and dressed in the clothes Madalena had bought for him on the day he had come out of the black hole, suit pants, a white shirt and a black, knitted vest. On his feet, he wore bold, black and white striped socks and hummed a tune as he walked into the kitchen.

He had little to eat, save for a few bits and pieces he had bought when he was with Madalena. Groaning, he scrounged up some bread, which he toasted and smeared with ripe avocado, then made tea and walked to the living room, where he sat at the desk. He took a bite of toast and sip of tea, then looked around for any sign of a pen and paper that he could use. He found some sheets of paper, which were unfortunately not lined and some of the hotel pens, then regretted that he could not do any better, than sat down to immerse himself in his formula, which was what he did every night.

As Vereshin set his pen to the page, a terrible cramped held his innards in a vice, causing his vision to split. He grasped his stomach and winced from the pain, which he ignored and assigned a variable to his position in time as he began to expand on the input of his first function. The pain in his abdomen worsened, causing him to tense up in his seat and hiss, leaning over the desk. He grasped his stomach, dropping his cigarette in the process, but he quickly grabbed it before it could set his notes alight and stubbed it out in his ashtray.

"No!" He cried out amidst the silence. "I'm not going back to hospital!" He said to himself, all the while suppressing the rising sensation that he was being watched.

[member="Darth Timorem"]