The Vultures Feast Around You, Still

[Lief]

Her breathing was heavy.

Every bone, every muscle, in her body urged her to flee. She had said too much, shown too much, and now she was likely going to be shipped right back to where she had come from. They'd be angry, of that she had no doubt.

His words brought about confusion, and when he grasped her wrist she tried to pull away with a guttural growl which resonated from her chest. There was no way she was going to overpower his grip though, so she fixed her eyes on his and felt her chest rise and fall, nose twitching in frustration.

She did not like this. She did not like knowing she was caught, incapable of escaping. The events in the marketplace now felt like they had taken place an eternity ago, though in truth she would likely have only been here for thirty minutes or so. Even if she could escape, she would likely continue to face the angry men back at the port.

Stuck between a rock and a hard place. At least this place had food...

Her expression shifted to one of pain for a moment as his grasp became tighter, and he pointed to the brand.

"No" she said, expression twisting somewhat before she shook her head, once again trying to pull back. He didn't know who they were? Perhaps that was a good thing... Was she ready to let down her guard? To stop fighting him? First the Beasts of Thirty Two, then the Spider, and the Sith, she couldn't afford another enemy.

"S-Sith..." she whispered, her voice laced with contempt and fear that she couldn't hide, before pointing to the brand once again. Was that who they were? It was what they had been referred to as... Would that word even make sense to him? She did not know.

Her body relaxed then, no longer fighting against him, no longer tense or animalistic, she simply looked to him with a very small frown. Finally she said two last words, though she remained wary and hesitant there was just the subtlest amount of hope which flashed behind her eyes.

"Stay?" came her murmur, "Safe..."

She didn't want to go back to them.

She couldn't.

[member="The Matador"]

 

[Tathra Khaeus]

​The Matador sat in a silence, observing the small girl as she revealed the identity of her captors.

​"Sith." ​He remarked, sitting back slightly as his mind became pensive. He was certain that the Sith he had worked with were not the same as those she spoke of. He noted how she relaxed, however his hand remained firm on her wrist. He pondered for a moment, wondering if perhaps this would make those who were previously allies his enemies. Well, he didn't know if anyone knew she was here. She did not know where she was, and thus he doubted her enemies knew either.

​He relinquished his grip, studying the small girl with questioning eyes. She reminded him of those he had trained before. Pupils of the Tol Varen who sat in their loincloths on hard wet stone. Their bodies faded and weak, untested. How they sat unmoving, too afraid to dare look at the Matador or the Keeper. The Keeper himself would observe the pupils and decide who was to suit each role within the Tol Varen, stalking around them like a bird of prey. His golden crown sat upon his head, body draped in white as his golden ring would whisper secrets of old to his mind, helping his chose the new warriors of the Tol Varen.

​The Keeper had the divine right of choice. Unlike the pupils, they did as they were instructed. Those who were chosen to become warriors of the Tol Varen joined the Matador that night on a shuttle, heading to Duxn to begin their training.

​Upon arrival to Duxn, the pupils would be lead up to a lonely mountain in the Duxn forest, where an derelict outpost still lay. A frozen cold facility that no longer maintained power. The pupils were lead to an empty room, and directed to sleep. There were no beds, and every surface was frozen to the touch. This was a lesson of mind over matter, to be able to ignore the cold, the first lesson in realising pain wasn't real. Not to a Tol Varen Warrior. The following morning, the Matador would arrive; some of the weaker children may have become sick. Some had not. Even so, they were ordered out into the morning air. Following that, the Matador would begin to teach them to spar. First, he would teach them to use their physical momentum, to understand that their body was a weapon of the Tol Varen.

​Each night, they would pray to the Keeper. They would pray to serve him well, to become a great weapon. Children were impressionable, and soon their mentalities began to shift, from anxiety and fear to determination and loyalty. Those who did not, would soon find themselves alone and far quicker reaching the bottom of the mountain, thus at the mercy of the jungle.

​The Matador recalled how the past leader had thrown him from the mountain, how he had broke his ankle and collarbone, how he had crawled against the friction of broken bone back to the outpost. How his broken bones had held mend his mind, and taught him the power of mental strength. He, had not been as extreme as the leader of the past. Nor, were the majority of pupils treated as poorly as he had been, he had been a half-breed. A unnatural creature. Even as the Tol Varen was made of a collection of races, he was the only hybrid. He was an outcast, and it made him stronger.

But he was not an easy Master, the pupils trained rigorously everyday, exercising to the point of collapse, brutalising each other on the regular. They had to become moulded into weapons. A weapon did not hesitate, it waited for it's Master's command and acted without consideration. Soon, the Pupils no longer flinched when their bodies experienced pain; they had control. They would not flinch when their sparring partner dislocated a knee or arm at its socket. They would retreat, and snap their injury back into place and continue fighting.

​When eight months past, they began to hunt for their own food. Trained with a variety of weaponry, each beginning to take shape into one of the three roles of the Tol Varen Militia. It was in their every thought of their being, they were becoming the Shield which protected the Tol Varen and served the Matador. As years passed, the Pupils had made Duxn their home; and soon had mastered the native creatures. Everything from a Malraas to a Zakkegg. They knew how to kill and avoid, how to exist with the creatures.

​Whether they were ready or not, soon they would become the Butcher's pupils and their true training would begin. The Matador recalled how personally gruelling it had been, but was glad for every moment of it. He seemed to be lost in thought, thinking back on how he saw some echo of his own trials in the girl. Could she stay?

​Onboard this ship? Perhaps. Without consequence from the Keeper? No.

​"Safety, you may have. But it will come at a price."

[member="Llevana Helas"]

 

[Lief]

His grip remained firm, the beast seemingly lost in thought as he held her in place by her wrist.

As much as she wanted to fight against his grasp, as much as she wanted to flee - even knowing that they were floating through the void at this point - she did not. She sat patiently, more patient than she had been in a long time, and watched him from where she was.

What had made her say those words?

What madness had gripped her to try and seek sanctuary here of all places?

Was she really any better off among these bulls than she had been with the spider? Had her circumstances changed at all? Truth be told, the rest of the Galaxy could be equally as frustrating to a child who had been raised without rules, who had been forced to survive in the most anarchistic of environments.

But it wasn't the rules which bothered her.

It was the way everybody seemed to think that she owed them something. That she should be grateful for her downbeat position. A slight scowl overcame her for a second, before she realized what she was doing.

No. This was better than Thirty Two, at least she had a chance to change her circumstances. Right?

He looked back at her, seemingly done with his internal thoughts, and finally spoke. Though his words did little to help make up her mind. If anything her frown only deepened.

"Price..?" she inquired. That wasn't a word she knew, though she did realize that he wanted something in exchange for being here. What would he ask of her? Would he seek to break her mind as the Sith had? Return her to a state of near infancy to be built upon? Change who she was at her core?

He had removed his hand from her wrist by this point, and with her new found freedom she shuffled back on the bench. Wary, yet hopeful.

[member="The Matador"]

 

[Tathra Khaeus]

​She inquired regarding the price he spoke of. Nothing of value came without a price, this was the truth that his life had taught him. Ever sacrifice the Matador had made, it lead him to greater strength. Everything about him.

​His strength, his armour and his survival were all earned through perseverance. The ability to persevere came through treating sacrifice as a trivial matter, the Tol Varen had taught him that the greater good came of serving the Keeper. Serving to help others see what truly mattered. The majority of the Galaxy held ideals such as 'self' and 'materialistic gain' high in regards to their ambitions. These, were foolish modicums that in truth had no relevance to the Galaxy. He, knew the real truth of the Galaxy.

He was ordained with the enlightenment of the Keeper, who had discovered the truth long ago. The Matador was an instrument of his will, this was his sacrifice to be something greater. His ultimate sacrifice. To be fair, he didn't see it as a sacrifice. To become a being of greater substance, he had to not see it that way.

​"Price. Everything of worth comes with a Price. I see in your eyes, a want to be free. I can make you strong, so that no one can ever hurt you again. But it won't come without Sacrifice. I am strong, unrelenting, unstoppable. But I did not become so without sacrifice. If you wish to be strong, you need to have the stomach for it."

The Matador relaxed in his seat, sitting a little back from the child. He felt a sense of pride in his sacred truth, calming himself. He could feel it, passion and pride twisting in the beat of his organs. He silenced it, not allowing it to cloud his judgement.

He was sceptical still, children were born into the Tol Varen and built from the ground up. Even then, some still failed. Perhaps the Tol Varen would grow in strength if they accepted those who were impressionable of any age, those not consumed by the foolishly ideologies of the Galaxy. He felt it, the eyes of the Keeper in the back of his mind.

​His was a reluctant ebb of curiosity, yet they both knew the Galaxy had changed much in the time since then. It wasn't impossible that some of their methods could adjust. ​~We do not bend, Matador. Yet you may see where this leads you. I feel it will teach you a valuable lesson.~ ​He winced under his helm, feeling the words of the Keeper like old burns surging with flame in the back of his mind. The pain faded in a moment, his focus returning to the child.

[member="Llevana Helas"]

 

[Lief]

Tilting her head to one side, Llevana contemplated on what he presented her with; he was correct, of course, she did want to be free, she wanted to be her own person rather than a downbeat fool who ran from bad circumstance to bad circumstance. There was still so much she did not understand, and while she had lasted this long mostly on her own, it had been through her ability to hide and survive more so than her fighting spirit.

She wasn't stupid, she knew that in the grand scheme of things she held little to be desired, she wasn't educated or trained, or even really street wise. Her personal survival techniques would not be of use to anyone else.

Besides, they brought me to the Spider, and now to the Bull...

And she had thought Thirty Two was a difficult environment to exist in alone.

The man before her was not expecting her to go it alone, though. At least, he didn't seem to. That was almost just as scary, if not more scary, though. The last time she had worked with others, they had ended up dead... At her own hand. She wasn't going to share that fact with him though, so instead she looked away from him with a small frown.

"Stomach..." She gave a small nod, she had a stomach didn't she? She could do what was needed if it meant she was in a better position than she was now. Swallowing for a moment, she let out a small sigh before her nod turned somewhat firmer.

Raising one hand she settled it to her chest, and met his gaze.

"Llevana... Will sacrifice" she said, feeling some of the walls she had forced up around herself begin to crumble, her reluctance to speak was also lessening, even without Grumpy's input, "Whatever it... takes..."

[member="The Matador"]