The Worst Dominion Ever (Fringe Dominion of Lipsec)

[Yasha Cadera]

We're in Mikhail's yacht. I know I should have left, tried to move my feet. He whispers in my ear, lips on my cheek. He bites down on my neck, and the scene explodes with stars.

[member="Mikhail Shorn"]'s second kiss was savage, fundamental and pulling. The gas clears from my head as with a burst of memory the Lipsec poison shudders off to the others, whose emotional outputs are more chaotically effective than the gas was in my brain.

I scramble. I have an apprentice now. If Mikhail snaps, Lia… I had to protect Lia as she had her experiences. One can't force a person to a certain road, but I can make sure she makes it out of this without a lifetime's worth of painful memories. I swoon, one hand on either side of Mikhail's head as my palms hit the ground. His mind shifts, bends and I don't feel the danger as I once had as it lurked in ever present shadow beneath his feet. Lust and love. My eyes flash white and hazel and as he flirts with Lia, going in for the physical attraction, going in for the fondle I have a timely epiphany.

I know how to redeem Mikhail Shorn. The epiphany has me stumbling off him and to my feet, I grab my hair and the tunnel vision of all these people, every day people, lovers and fighters and a crazy off his gourd Epicanthix are rallying in my brain to shut Anders down, shut out nothing but the kiss and I grit my teeth.

'HUSH!' A wave bursts in the empathetic atmosphere: a call to calm. A call to think in the pheromone laden air. Will it work? Can anyone listen? Quiet, I need quiet, can anybody just be quiet? Their brains are louder than freighters landing in a windstorm on a fragile, cracking dock. I get the insatiable urge to write the thought down before the cognizance of this moment slips away, lost for the cold blue eyes and love-desperate. Yanking a data pad out of my cargo pant pocket, I scribble with a finger (no stylus, can't find it) then . . . . like that, I'm staring at a blurred out image on a data pad. I shove it in my pocket, as the blurred images continue and I cant to the left, down, feeling the thud of the floor buffeted by Mikhail's shoulder.


"Forgot what I was gonna say." I hear my own giggle, as I glance down to Mikhail and Lia. Dude, are we on Zeltros? My head swims through the emotional choppy waters, looking for a buoy to rest against.

 

[Arage Bao]

I was just in time for the show to see Mikhail Shorn kissing Andra.

I jawned.

Then I unleashed the Forces of the Mentalistic Powers that Be on his mind.

I might be an apathetic ass, but you ain’t touching my --

I couldn’t help but notice some kind of strange fragrance.. what, huh. Why did I want to go.. hmm. My feet carried themselves over to where Mikhail was, and I.. woaaaaaaaaaahh. What the hel-- and shoved the two girls away. Threw myself at-- Goddamn it sto-- threw myself at Shorn and gave him a big munch on the mouth.

Right on the lips, with just the right amount of to-- Sweet Baby, what am I doi- No time, gotta make out.

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

 

[Marselia Urstalis]

"Learned anything from your master?"

The nuzzling at her cheek and the mouth, the breath on her ear altogether made it slightly challenging to pay attention at all to what he was saying, but she got it. A modest cheshire grin curled the corners of her mouth, and she went to his ear, close enough to nip at it, and it would be a lie if she denied that there was any temptation to do so in that moment and really... what would she lie for?

"Just that I should help those in need..." she said, in his ear, warm breath heating the words, "...do you need any help, Mikhail?"

But before he could answer, she was forcefully shoved off of [member="Mikhail Shorn"], along with [member="Anders Sivas"], an act that normally would bring forth her ire - and it did for a second, as she managed a glare at [member="Jared Ovmar"], before the airborne drug overtook her again and she found herself beginning to laugh as if in a state of delirium as she lay there in something of a two-person tangle with Anders.

 

[Lord Ghoul]

A thrill of anticipation rushed through Shorn at the redhead's words. And then his heavenly bliss exploded into pain.

Oooooooow. The migraine of the century made Shorn feel like his mind was falling apart, then it faded quite as suddenly as it had come and left him with a dull throbbing. Ugh. Someone had knocked off the cap of lust and love, bringing back the Garhoon in him. Someone's lips were on his, he didn't know whose anymore in this tangle of sweaty limbs and too-constrictive clothing. Mikhail pulled down on the lips, biting a little too hard. A few drops of ruby blood spilled into his mouth and he licked up the coppery nectar.

At once, the urge to feed roared through him. The headache needed to go away. His ravenous hunger needed to go away. Everything needed to just... go away. He grabbed the hair of the person on top of him and jerked his head to the side, exposing fleshy neck and throbbing arteries. Mikhail bared his fangs and went in for a snack.

Sharp canines punctured the carotid artery, tearing it open and unleashing a jet of scarlet blood that spurted into Mikhail's mouth as he clamped it around Jared's vulnerable throat. Wait, Jared's throat? No... no matter. Mmmmmm, bloooooood. Shorn guzzled down the sweet, delicious ichor and for a moment sharp clarity cut through the aphrodisiacs in the air and Mikhail knew only his craving for the lifeblood of man.

 

[Yasha Cadera]

I stroke [member="Marselia Urstalis"]'s cheek. Her laughter is infectious and sweet, a delirium hitting my bloodstream with the most delightful of burns. She needs to keep laughing, I want to see that laughter again and again and-- My pupils dilate. "Jared." A muted feminine voice purls from my lips and I pull Lia away from [member="Jared Ovmar"] and [member="Mikhail Shorn"]. "Don't get too close if you don't want to get …"

I gasp as if bursting from water and there's a gut-wrenching scream in the air. Copper. A wrangled neck. I've been there before, felt that weakness... Takes a second to register as my own. My mind goes haywire, Mikhail's fangs in Jared's… "Get off my lover!" I palm the side if Mikhail's head and force into his brain with an uncanny urge to shut brain down till he stops, till he lets go. "That's my job."

I stick my hand on the back of Jared's neck and a surge of luminescence strokes to the wound, steeling his veins from the flow. To hades with the likelihood of Jared dying again when I'm right there and in the mood to drag him behind a table and wake up three days later covered in sweat.

 

[Lord Ghoul]

He tasted blood, glorious blood, rushing into his mouth. So sweet. So... intoxicating. Then he felt a hand pressed against his head and... and... everything grew intensely foggy. Darkness. So much dar-

Shorn passed out.

 

[Arage Bao]

So.. two things happened. Well three, really. First, I kissed Mikhail Shorn, and for some goddamn reason I really liked it. I ain’t saying, like like, there wasn’t anything gooby-lovey about this stuff. It was this primal need of wanting, which was being fulfilled by kissing this guy.

And I couldn’t stop myself, hell at that point I didn’t even want to stop. Until he decided to bite me in the lip though, that snapped me right out of that damn love gas.

You gotta understand, the moment I realized what the hell I was doing, righteous fury of the Gods struck down upon the man who dared to lay his lips on mine. Or something like that. I was about to smite this karker down, until he decided to go to mark two and bite me in the damn neck.

Now I will tell you, I have had a lot of err.. experience in such fields. Experimental was my middle name, but dayum. Getting bit in the neck, was sure something. Couldn’t even do anything about it, pain flashed through my body and then it got turned off.

Good ol’ Crucitorn. Didn’t do anything against the bleed though, so I couldn’t really -do- anything. Except gathering up the power I had in me, to come up with a counter-stroke. Truthfully, I would probably bleed out in a few seconds and th--

Olalala Andra.

That woman just saved my life, literally this time.

As she hit Mikhail in the temple, and healed my neck as if it was nothing. I snarled in righteous anger, and struck with vengeance against-- well you catch my drift.

The moment Mikhail dropped, I hit him with everything I got.

I released the flood, and started ripping his mind to shreds.

Well, I wasn’t really sure how good of a job I was doing at it, because after 30 seconds. (Which is still a life time in brain/mentalism land) My attention suddenly snapped back to Andra.

I was.. hungry.

Hey, not my fault. The gal just saved my life, gotta repay her somehow

So I let loose of the power of Creation, and looked up to my savior. Then I stood up, and took her in my arms. Before kissing her, I looked at the cute redhead.

“I wouldn’t say no to an addition to this dance, love.”

 

[Marselia Urstalis]

Her laughter petered out, on account of the gas not being laughing gas, allowing her to watch the exchange of action around [member="Mikhail Shorn"], accompanied by a mini-rollercoaster of horned fascination, then surprised horror-lite, and her ire sparked for a second time. Again, [member="Jared Ovmar"], again... and... [member="Anders Sivas"]... and Jared... she forgot what she was starting to feel angry for, watching those two, but for a moment she looked back to the now-unconscious Shorn, and frowned.

Pity... that was fun.

“I wouldn’t say no to an addition to this dance, love.”

Her eyes, they blinked, and her head slowly turned to the vision of her master and her master's lover once again, and she actually hesitated to consider his invitation.

Handsome, but not as good-looking... she thought, flicking her eyes over to Shorn, and shrugging, ...oh, well.

Then a thought came to her mind that brought a lip-curling smile back to her face. She reclined on her elbows and crossed her legs at the ankles. A daring mischievousness glinted in her eyes, as she looked on Ovmar and gave him a response:

"Make me."

 

[Lord Ghoul]

Long-lashed eyes fluttered weakly as Mikhail drifted between clarity and dreamscape. Below him screamed the realm of Horr. The Netherworld itself. He could see twisting destruction and smell the brimstone and flame. Smoke curled upward, spreading into fingers that wrapped around him tugging him down, down, down into the pit of Chaos. Those tendrils of black ash, they were conscious. Alive. A presence filled them that Mikhail could not immediately place, for it was burned from his mind as he fell, plunging into the depths of Horr.
Amidst the flames, still falling, eternally falling, a woman strode forth. She bore a sweet smile and auburn hair tumbled from her head.

"Alexis?"

"You killed me." Her smile turned to a snarl and she raised both hands, tearing at him, ripping at his face and skull and tearing whole chunks of his brain away. She stuffed those pieces into her mouth, crunching delightedly. Shorn stared in horror, screaming at the incomprehensible pain. She was joined by a child who pulled at an eye, tearing it from his head. Rosa's child. More flooded in, from all corners, devouring him. The souls of all those he'd killed. Shorn's body began to regenerate, but they whittled him down, bit by bit. Mikhail felt his consciousness slipping away, eroding beneath the oppressive power. Utter agony disintegrated his mind. Pain unlike that which he had ever known. This was a nightmare from which there was no escape.

Suddenly, the tendrils of smoke holding him in place fled.

Consciousness came roaring back.

Pale blue eyes flared open, they glowed faintly with starlight and promises of the night. There was no humanity in those eyes. They were dead to remorse and sympathy. Did a predator have sympathy with its prey? A singular purpose filled those eyes. Need. Hunger. Whatever had awakened in Mikhail Shorn's place was not human. Jared's mental attack had burned away that part of him like chaff. Now only the basest, most primal part of him remained. A lobotomy gone wrong as Jared in his mindless rage had taken a hacksaw to Mikhail's brain and haphazardly sawed away at that which presented itself. Ego and superego had been obliterated. And oh, how the Id did laugh. Laugh and laugh and cry, weeping tears of hilarity at the fate of his foolish brothers. For he recognized the mind attached to the tendrils that had dragged him down into the nightmare. He knew who it was that had slain his kin.

Thirty seconds was enough to destroy the conscience of a man, but Jared had not finished the job. He had burst the lock which caged the hunter and now Shorn sprang forth, devoid of anything but the singular desire to destroy that which had harmed him.

The speed with which Mikhail moved from the ground cannot be described. Unfettered by humanity, the Garhoon took the forefront. He was made to be a predator of men. Faster and stronger innately, yet also bolstered by the primal power of the Dark Side. In a blinke, a heartbeat, a flutter of the lash, Shorn stood next to Jared.

His right hand jerked forward, cold, hard cybernetic fingers moving for Jared's belly like a raptor's claws, with enough strength behind them to easily rip through the cloth and the soft flesh of the belly beneath, tearing into the prey's stomach and ripping out the intestines.

[member="Jared Ovmar"]

 

[Yasha Cadera]

I'm in the centre of half the High Council and [member="Gavin Ovmar"] is off over yonder and [member="Jared Ovmar"] is kissing me. In front of them all, I receive the ultimate validation that I am not a shameful thing. Whether on the gas or not, Jared has taken me in his arms for all to see and I feel a heavenly consolation as a valued and adored woman. All is right, and as my lips stroke against my dark avenger's the kiss is an explosion of hope and futures yet given.

I have my Jared back.

And then my mind tweaks. I cringe. "Ah…" I choke on the air, tumble backward by inches and a terrible purgatory shunts into my brain. I scream, the agony of a dying mind chases the ecstasy of Jared accepting me totally, of Jared keeping me till d- "Aauuuhhhhh!" I grab my brain and writhe and wail in a shuddering unbecoming. Someone was ripped away and my lover did the damage.

There's enough time for me to turn and grab Jared's arm, push him back naught but an inch. I gasp. Two of Mikhail's fingers wrenched right through the muscle and skin beneath my ribcage. I feel a sudden chill and turn to [member="Marselia Urstalis"], "Medkit, NOW! Third row, TRANQUILIZER IN THE NECK. GO, LIA! Bucket, I need you!" I don't have to look to know Jared's internal organs are dangling from Shorn's hand. I feel the gross animal writhing within. What can one healer do in the midst of the evils of two vicious men? The anima and the intellectual, both with their infamies slashing at each other and I, shocked and screaming in the middle. I can do nothing but calm.

"HUSH. Hush, shhhhhh. Hushhhhh" My broken voice slips through the air to Mikhail's ragged-edged brain, I try to quiet the Garhoon as once I had after he'd ripped into my neck. There are no memories to attach to, nothing but the instinctual caress of the Mother, of the Goddess of Victory's safe stare which tells all her believers to curl up under her statue and rest. Heal. Rest. I've got you. "REST. SHHH."

My other hand is pushed at the wound, I cut off Jared's pain receptors and start bypassing the blood vessels, sealing them away and cauterizing them until I can get Jared to one of the bacta tanks on the Sumatiyara. I sink to my knees, my own blood soaking through my shirt, and dripping from my ripped leather jacket. Cold. My lips shudder. It's growing colder and I remember winter in bed with Jared, it was sweet and lilting.

I want to go back to sleep, but I have to close Jared's wound. My teeth grit, I can't tell how loud I'm whimpering.

 

[Arage Bao]

My mind was in bliss, the gas and my woman by my side. I was about to make a snarky remark back at the red head, about to-- Something was wrong, Andra tensed up all of a sudden and then.. what the she janked me back a bit.

Annoyance would flash up my face, what was the-- and then pain flashed. I looked down, and saw a claw trying to dig it’s way through my skin. I looked up to Andra’s face, and saw her mouth moving. But I couldn’t hear her voice.

Eyes closed, and I could feel. Feel everything connected to each other. Images flashed to me, as time slowed itself down. I didn’t want to see them, but I did. Shorn’s hand ripping itself right through Andra’s thin and vulnerable body. I tried to scream, but nothing came out.

Awareness rose, as I felt Andra’s power slowly dissipating, and something.. else? A foreign entity wrapped around her, fading quickly. If I had eyes in that plane of existence, they would have widened themselves, as I realized. My hands tried to grab for it, trying to stop it from fading.

But it was too late, my little kid was gone. Killed.. by him.

I wasn’t Roza, forgiveness.. wasn’t in my heart. Not at that time though. Pure rage filled me, and the pain of his claws already penetrated my skin. Trying to pull out my intestines.

His speed had slowed, after the fether punched right through Andra.

The pain… it was almost too much. Andra was trying to heal me, and Mikhail was damaging me. The moment she healed it, he ripped it apart again.

Too much.

I released it all.

My mind took everything I had. All the pain and suffering, my only.. child. My hatred. I took it all, and the pain. The pain which never ended, returned again and again and again and again.

And I directed it against the half-crazed Garhoon fether.

His humanity was gone, so I targeted all that was left. The parts that let him live.

My hatred, pain and fury formed itself into a thousand flaming spears of endless torture, and I directed them. I forced them into his brain.

He would die.

He took my child, and he would pay the price.

***

While that was happening, Shorn’s hand was playing rock, paper, shotgun with Jared’s intestines. This didn’t bode well for him. But Andra was doing all she could. Let’s see how this goes.

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

 

[Nisha Decrilla]

Speed dating? With members of the fringe? Lips curled into a smile simply thiniking about it. It was something Anaya simply couldn't resist, there was, after all a chance that Ashin might show up, though it was rare these days that she showed up anywhere without the pussycat in tow. Never mind though, she could go with round three again if the offer was put on the table. All the same, if Ashin wasn't there, she was bound to have fun. Stepping through the door she was hit by the elixir. She stopped for a moment, the lethan drew in a deep breath and closed her eyes, letting the gas take its effect.

Anaya was used to these drugs, she was used to pheramones and while they had the normal affect on her as they did everyone else, she was able to see through the haze if she wanted to and when the scent of blood hit her she did just that, she peered past the haze at the bodies on the floor. Tilting her head to one side she scanned the wounds. Clean hits, quick kills: sharpshooter? Eyes lifted to scan the room, settling on the blaster wielding [member="Dak Canton"]. She took a step towards him and stopped. Tremors ran through the force tremors that were associated with chaos, hungry eyes studied Dak, the new face of AEL as pretty in real life as he was in the posters, struggling by the looks of things, with the effect of the drugs.

But then there was a scream and the termours became earthquakes in her mind. Anaya closed her eyes and sighed, knowing full well without looking who was at the centre of this mess. Regretfully, she turned away from Dak, boots clicking across the floor as she moved for Mikhail, slipping up behind him she pressed her body against his, hands resting on his shoulder blades, utterly oblivious to whatever mess this was. Eyes peered over Mikhail's shoulder to look at the mess in his hands.

Not good.

Eyes moved up the the owner of the intestines.

Even worse.

"Mikhail, my sweet, let go." she purred in his ear "Its time to leave."

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

 

[Lord Ghoul]

Words slipped over the mind of the beast, but there were no greater sensibilities to appeal to, Jared had stripped them all away and tossed them into the furnace of the forge. A forge which had then given birth to a simpler, stronger metal, untempered by that which would make it weak and pliable. A metal which would not bend. A metal that could not break.

The mate of the prey could trill all it wanted. Nature knew no mercy.

The Garhoon flung out a boot to plant in the mate's chest and kick her away from his quarry.

Cybernetic fingers wrapped around the white ropes, tugging them further out of Jared's stomach in a fountain of scarlet that splashed across the ground. Red, red everywhere and not a drip to drink. Sight and smell drove the Garhoon into a frenzy. The words of Anaya and Andra barely registered, unable to break through the inebriation of bloodlust.

Something else did.

Javelins of pain lanced into the feral mind of the monster. In that wild beyond they pierced him, seeking to burn him, to set his senses aflame with unending torment. Yet the pain was not his. The suffering not of his soul. For what soul did he have to suffer? The beast which had been Mikhail unleashed a cry of agony at a pain that it could not feel. An emotional hell that it did not comprehend. Jared's fires had helped to purify him, evolving him into a greater being without empathy, without remorse. Where the psyche of a man would be destroyed by such an attack, the Garhoon was incapable of understanding the true depths of Jared's pain. Simply shoving it upon the monster did not help him comprehend. Nor did the beast seek to comprehend.

"I DO NOT WANT YOUR SUFFERING!" bellowed the Garhoon, agony tearing through the creature. The figure which had been Mikhail tore his cybernetic hand free of Jared's entrails, taking whatever he could with him.

Blind in pain, the beast reacted as all animals do when they are cornered, frightened, and wounded. Neurons that Jared destroyed in that creation's mind regenerated swiftly, strengthened by the very blood which now sought to end its life. Primal instincts surged to the forefront, matter that could not be unmade. Instincts that stretched back to the beginning of life, ingrained in the nature of all beings burst into lettered flame before the mind's eye.

Kill, or Be Killed.

He lashed out, left hand swinging for the prey's throat, finger's as hard as claws, made for this singular purpose. To rip, to tear.

 

[Marselia Urstalis]

She was expecting some snark. It was par for the course with the comment she'd made. What she was not expecting, however, was for [member="Mikhail Shorn"] to be up and about so quickly after being conked out cold, and... intestines?!

Her eyes went wide, the colour draining from her face as she inhaled a sharp breath, the drug still trying to work on her in the face of what she was seeing. Panic flooded through her, either suppressing the drug or flushing it out entirely, and her eyes darted about, taking in every bit of the scene as she remembered that breathing was required.

"Medkit, NOW! Third row, TRANQUILIZER IN THE NECK. GO, LIA! Bucket, I need you!"

Her eyes snapped to the face of [member="Anders Sivas"] and away from the sight of [member="Jared Ovmar"]'s intestines in the hand of Shorn. A eternally slow moment passed, wherein Lia's eyes squeezed shut and she shook her head frantically, then looked over the scene again, scrambled to her feet, and went for the medkit that always came along on every adventure, almost barreling over a chair in the process, but succeeding. On the way back she almost bowled Bucket completely over, and strangely in her haste, blurted out an apology to the droid and went right for [member="Anders Sivas"]. Maybe Bucket would deal with the Garhoon? Lia had other more pressing concerns. She dropped the medkit on the ground, and knelt, digging out what she needed.

First, the bacta patches. Peel the backing, stick 'em on, and fumbling with the backing was literally the most frustrating thing in those moments, and did nothing to make her as calm as she needed to be, but the panicked rush did something useful for her focus. After about seven seconds with the backing, she peeled the bacta patch free and applied the first one to the ripping wound that was draining her master of consciousness. This process was repeated until absolute coverage was attained. Then... well, as she'd been taught, the adrenaline, loaded into the dispenser. All she had to do was...

"Anders, sweetie, I need you hold still just a moment here...." oh, gods, her hands were shaking, "...please..." oh, whyyyyyy! as she took the other woman by the neck and pressed the dispenser in... thankfully, the right place on the first try, and pressed the button. "...there we go."

And just as she came from that action, turning to look at Jared, Shorn went for his neck, Lia's eyes went wid as Bucket whirred into position. She swallowed a scream at what might come.

She was going to need... need a drink after this.

 

[Nisha Decrilla]

The moment he'd started shouting she'd moved from behind him, trying to make sense of what was going on. When she looked at Shorn, she did not see the egotistical man she'd gotten so good at manipulating. She saw an animal, filled with rage, but why? Tick tock, work it out fast Anaya...

Idiot Jared! Were all mentalists so dumb? It didn't matter, what mattered is she needed them both alive, and Mikhail clearly had other ideas.

[SIZE=18.399999618530273px]"Mikhail! NO!"[/SIZE]

Strong fingers coiled about the wrist going for Jared's throat and she yanked it back, stepping between the two of them she slammed a force driven palm into Mikhail's chest, intending to drive him back, draw his attention from Jared to her. "Stop this now!" she growled at him, her fingers coiling around the saberstaff at her back.

 

[Yasha Cadera]

My body gets kicked away, but my presence lingers on Jared. Always on Jared.

The second Mikhail's hand plunged into us, I'd begun cauterizing the wounds in his gut. When Mikhail yanked, the flesh which came was grey and ashen, cut off from blood supply. Jared's wound closed. It wouldn't make my lover pristine, but it would buy Jared time. Time without the physical pain of his dying gut. He had hours.

I had seconds. My eyes rolled upward, the image of Jared in grief fades as I hear a child laughing. "Moooommmyyyy!"

What is life, but a series of beginnings? I see my wheezing body, hand gripping uselessly at my pouring wound I see my face staring at Jared, giving him all I have to keep him alive. "Mommy!" The child lingers, she laughs and I swerve round to see a kaleidoscope of colours and in the middle my little girl. Our little boy with his father's hair and his mother's eyes - deep hazel eyes sparkling with life. "Sweetie, what're you doing?"

"Mommy, let's go Mommy! You're gonna miss it!" The child's chubby fingers fold around my hand and I kneel before my little boy, throwing my arms around her and burying my face in his raven hair. She coos, I feel soft lips on my cheek and I tickle up his sides as he giggles and laughs. "Mommy! Eeehehe I love you! I love you! Stopp! Daddy! Daaaaaddy heeelp! Mommy's tickle kissing!" ​

​

A masculine chuckle slides into the ether behind me. Jared Ovmar ripped a piece of his spirit - his empathy, his joy when he was at the hands of unmerciful Mikhail, and its imprint found me. "Is she? Team Ovmar will be victorious!" My sides burst as my little boy vaults into her father's arms - the imprint's arms. His hand strokes my cheek. "Are you ready?"​

​

"Ready for what?"​

"We're gonna watch it, Mommy!"​

"Watch what, Sweet-Irli?"

"The beginning of the universe. Come with us, Mommy. Forever and ever we'll be watching." ​

A tug. Someone's shoved a bacta patch on my side, I feel a sting as the light shifts. I look down and see Jared with a hand around his throat. The vision tilts, I feel a hand - strong and soft on my cheek, as Lia's voice mumbles into the mire of the other-world. "There's nothing left for you Andra. Come home. There's only pain there. Nothing more but excruciating pain." The little boy hopped down from his father's arms and held them up for me.​

A tug. I gasp and grab my son. "I've got you! I can save you, we can go home to Annaj, we can visit Naboo and you can meet your granddad and …" ​

"Andra!" Firm and joyful, the voice hits me, I glance up at the shade of Jared and he smiles down. "You can only save one. Look at your body, love. You're torn to pieces. Look. You need to be strong now, Andra. Remember that you're strong. I love you, stop hiding."​

A tug. My side sears with pain, I fall as I hear our child singing.

"Mooooommyyyyy! Mooommmy. My Mommy has pretty hair and painted lips, she loves me more than sailing ships. My Daddy puts me on his knee and tells me all his histories, my Mommy and my Daddy love, love me. Into the Light we will go and watch how happily it grows. Mommy, mommy love you so, Mommy mommy love you so…." the child's voice sings and coos as he skips toward the origin of the kaleidoscopic colours.​

"No! Come back!!" I panic, grabbing onto the shade of Jared's elbows and pulling. "No, no, no, no, no, no. No! No, n-oh." My mind folds around this shade with fragile wings and as our child skips into the Light I burn back into my body with the stinging flash of adrenaline. Tears stain my cheeks.​

A surge of pain slices across my side as [member="Marselia Urstalis"] plies the trade I just began to teach. I wail and dig into the ground, pushing at the ground with my arm and legs toward Jared. My healer's presence surges around his neck before my fingers can get there and I know it's bad, I know he's got less time than an egg in boiling water but Lia, sweet Lia has given me a chance. "I..NNggh! AM NOT.. Rraaugh!" I gasp, cry out and my hand slips off of Lia's shoulder, I try again but it's wet with crimson. "Get me to Jared, I'm not.. nngghh.. I REFUSE TO LOSE HIM!"

A burst of white surrounds us as I curl my gift around my lover's throat and seal it from the killer's wound. "You're mine Jared Ovmar! I will tell you when you're allowed to die and it's not today!" Peace, perfect and beautiful surges through my hands. It surges toward Lia and her nervous, stretched mind. It surges through my limbs and numbs my side so I can survive a minute longer, then another minute and another until I know Jared will make it out of this alive. After that? I'll negotiate with the Gatekeeper, or allow the Goddess of Borrowed Chances the pride of carrying her daughter home.


The peace reaches for Jared with a vision playing in his mind of our little girl and her giggles, her small arms twining around his neck in tiny hallelujahs. It's the best soporific I can give him as I exhaust my shuddering body of its' ability to exist. My strength is one of will and there is no fear of 'too far' of being identified or known too deeply by those I hid from since arriving in the Fringe.

The Light is sacred, the Light is will. The Light is peace in the face of incomprehensible pain and it is not as some believe a source of weakness. A bar never passed where all violent victory lies beyond, the Light is victory it is wholeness and healing and might. Wrapped around me, I become the Light's Beacon and I act beyond my fragile human condition to slow Jared's heartbeat and patch the gruesome gore sliding round his open neck. My hands spread out and I force-pull Jared away from [member="Anaya Fen"] and [member="Mikhail Shorn"], I slide him into my arms and away, as Bucket puts itself between us and readies its main gun. We tumble into the front of a toppled table and I grip my hands around Jared's neck. My voice chokes out of my throat in bursts and whimpers: "Lia, honey you're doing great. You've got this Lia, I'm proud of you. We need to get to the Suma. Jared and I need to get into the bacta tanks. Jared's got minutes. . . no, he's got hours. He's stable enough to walk I think."


'Heal and live. You must live, Jared. Hold me.' The more I push healing into Jared's neck the more my lungs begin to shudder. I've lost all feeling in my left leg and my fingers are fumbling. Growing blue and numb. I push my forehead to Jared's and do the best I can - which given my one gift is one of healing isn't paltry. Once I feel Jared will survive, that he'll be well enough to walk and react, the Light begins to fade from my muscles. 'Help us to the Sumatiyara, love. We can still save her if we get to the Suma.'

Bucket stays between us and Mikhail, covering our retreat as I fall prey to wishful thinking.

 

[Marcus Tritum]

I pointed and screamed as I watched some dark haired dude rip High Councillor Ovmar's guts out with his bare hands.

Prompted to action, I whipped up my blaster pistol and squeezed off several shots at the bad guy. Die! Die! Wow, he had nice eyes, er, I mean, Die!

 

[Lord Ghoul]

Blood cartwheeled gleefully in scarlet ribbons behind his fingers. Red. The color of life and death. Drenched in Jared's ichor, the Garhoon reveled in the destruction of the prey. He could feel their loss, their pain. Good. Suffer as they had made him suffer. Die in agony. The hawk does not weep for the partridge's dead young, nor the wolf howl at the rabbit's loss. He fed upon the anguish of these lessers, these prey. He would lap up whatever blood remained from their corpses.

A sudden fist slammed into his chest, fracturing his sternum and sending him backward. The Garhoon stumbled several steps, then recovered his balance, drawing himself up. Red drenched his lips, dribbling down his chin and across the front of his shirt. His fingers were coated with bits of fleshy gore, pink and crimson and grey. His broken sternum began to reknit, Garhoon regeneration abilities kicking. He stepped forward, raising his fingers like claws.

Bolts of searing red skipped across the room and took him in the chest. He stumbled back again, but a droid from behind opened fire as well. Plasma tore through flesh and bone as the Garhoon was riddled by blaster bolts. He collapsed onto the floor, smoke rising from half a dozen burnt holes in his body, apparently dead.

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

 

[Kitt Solo]

[SIZE=10pt]Was his hand just on her…[/SIZE]

[SIZE=10pt]Once in the vent, she turned and leaned out of the opening to look at Na’Varro. The drug was slightly stronger in the vent and she was just far enough away from his warring emotions to say, “I want to ravage you right now.” Fingers curled around the shaft as she tensed between jumping down and turning back around to move onto her mission…whatever it was….[/SIZE]

[SIZE=10pt]What was more important than ravaging Ale---PAIN. SCREAMS. DEATH.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=10pt]They hit her like a fifty-pound flying mynock, one after the other. It was enough to completely break free of the drug. It was enough to make her lose her balance and fall forward onto Alen.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=10pt]“Ommphh,” tears were streaming down her face as she felt EVERYTHING Anders did. Everything. For once, she was completely broken in front of Alen. And it wasn’t even the real Alen.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=10pt]Jaw set into stone even though her face remained wet with tears. Without moving from her entangled position, the force pumped through her and she blasted the room’s door open. Invisible hands went to pluck the limp form of Shorn and Anaya to float and usher them outside. Far, FAR outside.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=10pt]For a second, she locked eyes with [member="Anders Sivas"] from across the room. The look said it all. She knew. The bounty hunter empath felt it all. And no words could express the grief, horror, shock...[/SIZE]

 

[Hannibal Oryen]

Hannibal opened the door to the bar, dressed in his best. Time to melt the lady folk with his rugged, bounty hunter charm.

"Swiggity swooty, I'm-"

He didn't finish his sentence, or maybe he did and it just couldn't be heard, because right then was when the blood spattered Shorn took a bunch of blaster bolts to the everywhere and fell over dead. Hannibal stared at the limp probably-corpse for a few seconds, before noticing the blood elsewhere. Copious amounts of blood, no doubt from copious amounts of people.

The Fondorian gingerly closed the door again before even having taken a step in, having decided that the strip joint across the street was the better choice for the evening.