Welcome Darkness

[Pom Stych Tivé]

Pom recognized her need to explore her feelings. Having recently seen the specter of her son amidst a sea of spirits, and an unforeshadowed withdrawal of affection where Hevn walked away from his vow to her, she could not escape the fact that she had also granted the power to be affected to yet another man, Shaidin Kamari far longer ago. Memories of her past lifetime to which he was connected, often flooded her mind, which is why she mostly remained deep in her studies. Lately, even involved in the most engrossing texts, or Potion brew, she found thoughts of her past resurfacing.

There were a few different avenues she could take, each one adequate but none a permanent or acceptable solution. The one most pressing on her mind, which lured her to consider the path with almost no relenting, is to dose up with Potions. And when the dosage requires an increase, and there is no longer satiation, then what? Just be a junkie? Pom held fast to her sanity enough to realize the dangers of the path she considered. Her only logical medicine lay with [member="Vytal Noctura"]. Her sister is the only true bond she has in this lifetime. Vytal never lied to her. Vytal never withheld her kinship affections. She would help as she always has, even to the point of personal expense. Its what true family does.

Eons ago, the Nightsisters of Dathomir understood just how vital their Creed is to one another. They stood fast against the madness, the tirade, the fickleness and dissatisfied nature men bring and beat into the hearts of women, and they understood the only way to break their chains is to teach their daughters to become the sole Mistress of her own power. Before Pom can evolve, she needs first to explore her memories in order to begin to heal. She knows this. She waited far too long holding it all in. Her life felt like a series of freely jumping into one bottomless pit after another, surrendering to her carnal lusts and in turn oppressing her personal sense of self, foregoing growth.

There is no place below her current state she could explore, lest she succumb to weakness and welcomed death; If she even can die. How much worse to be dead inside, and never free to physically die. The thread of willpower left to raise her self image above rock bottom is enough vanity to keep her treading onward. Something inside of her kept crying out, ‘All you need to do is welcome the Darkness to overcome weakness.’ Somehow Darkness equals freedom? She does not understand what this means, or how to do such a thing. All she knows is that her soul mastered this skill in her pastlife.

Pom paced the floor all during the night, her coven sacrificed on the altar long into the early hours, that she resisted disturbing Vytal with her emotional issue well into noontime. When she stood motionless before the porthole doorway to anywhere within the magickal limits of the Mandragora castle, she felt her heart rate suddenly begin to escalate with anxiety. She could not begin to take the steps she so desperately desires, so desperately requires, to begin to ask for help.

 

[Vytal Noctura]

Vytal sat half upright in bed, her gaze out the nearby window into the skies of Ryloth. Thoughts had troubled her of late. Dark and familiar matters with seeming no good choices before her.

A hand slid along her back until it perched upon Vytal's left shoulder. "Mmm, you seem distracted," a soft, feminine voice purred in her ear.

Slowly the Nightsister turned to regard one of those that had ventured into the stars with Noctura. A smile graced her black lips at the sight of her Sister of Dathomir. Her right hand lifted to lay atop her left shoulder as well and caress the supporting hand. "Sorry. Just thinking about..." the words trailed off for a second before a soft laugh shook free the thoughts, "everything. How is everyone?" The other Dathomiri Witch's chin soon lighted atop their hands. Vytal tipped her head back and to the side where their noses touched.

"Better, now. When we were lost among the stars just trying to survive, we were becoming too much like the offworlders, Vee." The other hand slipped about Vytal's right to cradle the woman in her arms. "It wasn't your fault, we were just..."

"We have a home, now," Vytal agreed. There was no need to explain more. She'd seen it, perhaps even felt it. Broken worlds full of dredges they could take advantage of, but at risk of becoming mired in their filth. The Confederacy. The Mandragora. It saved them. Gave them sanctuary and somewhere surrounded by others that understood magick. Somewhere they could grow.

A soft laugh followed. "Thanks to you. Now, don't you have somewhere to be? You're late getting out of bed."

Vytal sighed. The comforts of the bed and the warmth of her Sister's presence made attending to her duties more of a chore than it should have been. "As you command, Mother." She turned on the spot and tackled the other pale woman into the sheets for a few seconds.

A while later, after getting dressed and tending to her hygiene, Vytal approached the door to her outer room. Most of the Fates had already gone about their various routines by then. Best get the day started before she set a bad example still being there when they got back. The double doors parted and the Nightsister came up short of passing through when she found Pom standing on the other side elsewhere in the Castle; two points in space bridged through magick.

"Pom," Vytal blinked, surprised her Sister was standing there and with a peculiar expression at that. "Is everything all right?"

Tag: [member="Pom Stych Tivé"]​

 

[Pom Stych Tivé]

Is it fate that [member="Vytal Noctura"] showed up right before Pom could turn and run back to her own tower cupola? Pom's expression read as one of momentary shock when Vytal appeared on the other side of the door, before she blossomed into a forced but brilliant smile. Her voice wavered ever so lightly, "I'm…just…wondering if you want to share breakfast in the garden this morning? It's been a long time since we enjoyed the outdoors." She stepped through the archway to be on the same side of the doorway as Vytal, before opening it again and passing through to the ground level together. As she turned to lead the way however, she felt like she began to choke back her tears, vehemently so. Regardless she lost and her eyes teared.

'Still there are Potions. Could always go for the Potions and keep the secret buried deep.'

She tried to keep her steps just ahead of Vytal's as they walked through the lobby to the main doors, so her sister would not see her fallen spirits. The droid zoomed past them with its spread of all manner of fresh fruits and vegetables; they had tried elves for the chore, but their hygiene requirements were just…abominable.

Pom sighed, and she tried to hold her head erect, while catching up with the droid that kept passing ahead and pausing, waiting for the two to catch up.

The smell of the flowers, sweet and strong, reminded her of…no not Dathomir, something her former self experienced. Pom sat upon the stone bench which overlooked the garden. She looked down and cast her gaze anywhere but to face Vytal.

"Vytal," she began finally, "what defines family in your mind?" Hevn's view was obviously not the Dathomiri way. She picked up a cooked meat from the service droid's tray and slowly became engrossed with it, although her stomach was cramping at the thought of how this conversation might go.

Shall she find herself tonight, left all alone in the galaxy, from what she has to reveal?

 

[Vytal Noctura]

Vytal of course didn't have any problem with 'breakfast' in the garden with Pom. Not with the other woman stepping into the outer chamber of her suite to change the doorway's anchor. Almost everyone else was gone, and it wasn't anything her Sister hadn't seen before even if they had been there. You could take the Nightsister away from Dathomir, but you wouldn't take Dathomir away from the Nightsister. Vytal knew Pom agreed. Though everyone was a tad disappointed when she said 'no bonfires in our living area.' The fireplace wasn't the same, they'd complained. True enough, but there was plenty of ground outside for bonfires.

As they walked, Vytal couldn't help but notice Pom's body language, her movements, and the lack of conversation. Pom likely wouldn't notice given her own thoughts, but Vytal hadn't tried storming ahead to cut her off or taking hold of her Sister's hand to have them face one another either. While not teary-eyed, the 'Stormcaller' as Hevn once named her among them was plagued with her own thoughts. Things she couldn't share even with the four that had accompanied her into the cruel Above. It was not something to speak of lightly! No matter what that busybody of a Spirit said.

Once they arrived at the garden within the Castle walls, the two Sisters sat down and seemed to just take in the fresh air and the array of color all around them.

It wasn't natural. The colors. Too bright. Anything like that would only attract a beast's eye, or be devoured -- likely mistaken for something with flesh or juicy insides. Not that Dathomir was colorless, but the garden screamed color. Even so, there was something strangely beautiful about it. An exotic beauty. Delicate and floral.

Pom finally spoke up, obviously she sought a way to bring something to her lips. In a way, Vytal almost feared what it might be; but perhaps she should be the one to speak more openly with her Sister. Fanged God, grant her strength, she pleaded silently. "Family," the Nightsister began as she sat with her hands in her lap, "are the people you would burn the galaxy to protect."

Vytal turned her head to look over at her Nightsister. "Or venture into the Netherworld to protect. Pom," she reached over to lay her hand atop Pom's hand or her leg, "whatever it is, you can tell me. I left home to find a way to protect it from the Mandalorians and the Sith. To protect my Sisters, and you are one of my Sisters. There is nothing I wouldn't do for you."

Tag: [member="Pom Stych Tivé"]​

 

[Pom Stych Tivé]

Anyone from anywhere else in the galaxy would not have understood how to answer, she knew this already. It was already something her life on Dathomir trained her to believe. She had such hopes it wouldn't be true. Recent events lead her closer to what little semblance she had to roots. She feels like two spirits trapped in one body recently.

Pom took hold of [member="Vytal Noctura"]'s hand as she spoke. "It's something I have been dealing with every day. I've been trying to discover a way to feel whole." She did not like how easily things slipped away from her grasp, and yet elated at what consistently remained. The Mandragora and Vytal both stand firm at the core of life for her.

Pom admits she has her secrets, and she senses Vytal needing a release as well. It has been days of the same silence between them, the same glances off into the distance trapped in thought. Everything Pom got involved with recently was just a cover-up to recover from the first shock where she started to stumble. She clung to anything providing that mental release, inanimate or organic.

"Something I just cannot put into words." Pom drew two potion vials from her pocket, "Trust?" she offered. The color of the potion itself was like none other. Vytal would know of it. The potion if accepted would permit the two to see into one another's memories, to recreate and stand in one another's shoes. It is a bonding experience unlike any other. Pom had never done it with anyone, but she brewed the potion herself. She would be able to show Vytal what she has been carrying around this past year, and maybe face the event through Vytal's eyes and be able to get past the hard facts for once, due to her respect for Vytal. In turn, the same intimate mind meld would allow Pom to see into Vytal.

 

[Vytal Noctura]

Vytal's eyes fell to the vials that Pom had brought with her. An inhale of breath followed their appearance. "Pom," the Nightsister gave a light squeeze of the other woman's hand, "I do trust you, but you need to be prepared. I don't know what you will see if we do this." She would reach out with her free hand to accept the vial, but the verbal warning had to be given. How it might appear -- if it would appear -- could not be foreseen. Perhaps it would not be hidden at all, but shown in full before her Sister's eyes. Perhaps then she would truly understand. Vytal just couldn't foresee it being that straightforward.

There were many things... Perhaps Pom held just as many dark secrets or knowledge. Perhaps what she was prepared to share was just as elusive or dangerous. Surely just as personal and revealing. She wouldn't believe anyone if they'd said this was all an effort to exploit Vytal's trust to steal secrets. This was because Pom needed to share something truly personal.

"I hope you will understand," she added with another gentle squeeze of Pom's hand. Understand why she had never spoke of it. Why the deception. Pom would understand, she told herself. It had been necessary in a way no Offworlder could fathom.

As the Master Potion, Vytal would accept Pom's lead in this matter. They would consume the vials and see what truths revealed themselves, and test the bonds of family that Pom feared may fray or unwind as a result.

Tag: [member="Pom Stych Tivé"]​

 

[Pom Stych Tivé]

Pom wrapped her wrist that held the vial around [member="Vytal Noctura"]'s, and with her other linked hands with her sister. She faced her squarely and in one swallow consumed the contents of the vial, which burned its way down her throat like fire at first.

Cylaeria, the spitting image of Pom, stood hand in hand with her first young love, as Shaidin Kamari approached her. Cylaeria stole her hand away from the first man and placed her's into Shaidin's, walking alongside him through life.

She rocked her baby boy to sleep in her arms. He grew to become a strong warrior before her eyes, and she loved her Kæstyl ever so deeply.

Shaidin's empire grew powerful. Cylaeria learned the ways of the Sith under his tutelage.

Her first love grew extremely jealous and waged a terrible war across the land, which caused Cylaeria to feel obliged to try to quell his anger before the toll grew too heavy. She went to him against Shaidin's judgement. Her jilted lover found relief in imprisoning Shaidin by severing his connection to the Force, caging up Cylaeria and dicing her up before his eyes.

No escape from the fire…it's everywhere…

Darkness… 'Why am I here? Why can I not see? How do I become free?' The fire is replaced by blackness surrounding her. She hears voices from time to time, but for the most part her comprehension drifts in and out. 'I DO NOT UNDERSTAND!' she shrieked. There was an instant bout of crying, begging, and then sudden silence. The love had stopped pouring down into her being. There was no longer any outside influence, only her inner thoughts of confusion.

Cylaeria cried out in pain, trembling in the cold, afraid of the sudden light. She saw hands, little hands, reborn.

The face of her Mother, Vytal's Aunt smiles down upon her for the first time. The faces of the elders leave and never come to see her again.

She and Vytal were lain in the same cradle by their mothers.

Pomsty peers back at Vytal. "I know that I have hidden talents surrounding the Darkside of the Force. How do I access these memories," she asked, "lest someone be harmed by my lack of control over it?"

The explanation of the Elders of her Nightsister Coven echoed through her mind.


'Pom Stych Tivé, Kæstyl came to the elders and commissioned your reincarnation, with Cylaeria Kamari’s bone, Soul, his own blood, and the Nightmother's womb. She died during your forth month gestation. You were kept sustained as her body was put on life support. Kæstyl paid heavily to fortify the coven. He did not return to claim you, but we heard that Kæstyl died in battle, and we raised you as our own, not knowing which type of programming he had intended for you. He became known to you solely as your father.'

'We have opened the archives to research your inquiry, Master Kamari. Now that you have connected with and reclaimed your property, please understand we had no way of knowing of your existence prior to this day, else we would have satisfied your needs by providing your wife to you sooner for reprogramming. Please do not retaliate against this unfortunate transgression.'
.
The burden of learning her whereabouts nearly destroyed Pomsty. The formality of the explanation offered, ruined her faith in her ability to return home and that anything could ever be as it had been before.

All Pomsty understood regarding Shaidin Kamari is that deep inside she loves him. His deep passion to possess her however, was far greater than she could bear in such little time knowing him.

She isn't sure if she wants to forget all the fleeting memories, or if she wants to know how to embrace her past. She does however, truly hope to remain Vytal's sister!

If Vytal desires to see more in order to understand any aspect of Pomsty, then she is now free to search through her thoughts for it.

 

[Vytal Noctura]

Vytal joined her Sister in linking arms and consuming the potion. Pom's memories or her past life took the forefront in short order. All washed over the Nightsister as events led from rise, to fall, to her rise again. This was nothing unheard of, though Vytal had never suspected it had become so personal. Nor that what had once been so clear might now be questioned. A concern that plagued Pom's thoughts greatly, and one that might draw question, except for something truly troubling.

PROGRAMMING?

PROPERTY!

Several Witches and Warlocks flocked to the garden in that moment. Various instruments of power held ready from an alarming swell of power in their midst. Unfortunate for them that a ring of green flame had encircled the two Nightsister's ten feet out and bared both entry and audible intrusion, or eavesdropping. The fire rapidly danced or spun about them; it left no burn marks on any of the plants, and yet flared to life if any dared draw near.

Everything had spiraled out of Vytal's control. Before she could even question what had been seen, everything changed.

The landscape around them melted away only to reveal similar imagery of Dathomir. Slowly the sights of six different Nightsister Clans rose from the ground before they collapsed into the soil from which they'd come. Each carried the sight of land far from home and the appearance of different seasons and star fields of home. As the last faded, a glade took their place and at its center a large magic circle with a bowl atop a pedastil.

A drop of blood was all it took before darkness claimed them, but an ethereal caress of minute force prickling the flesh of the front of their bodies gave rise to a sense of falling into an unseen and invisible void all around them. Even sound had fled this space. Not even the beat of one's heart would reach their ears.

With a cry, Vytal collapsed on to the ground as though dropped from only a short height. The younger version of the Nightsister got to her feet and began to survey the sickly, pale surroundings. Signs of ruins and neglect, half erected statues and collapsed, perhaps once habitable constructs lay all around. Before she could take her first step, a skitter drew her eye. A chatter of teeth and mandibles, pincers and chains grew as a crescendo as features forms shambled toward her.

Soon flashes of Vytal running, fighting, climbing, and narrowly avoiding monstrous forms crushing her to pulp whisked by one after another. Each showed a steadily worsening form of the Nightsister; one whose body showed growing count of bruises, scrapes, and cuts. Blood ran and caked over her pale flesh, and in her white strands of hair. Her lips chapped and her breath became increasingly laborious as the endless display of pursuit dragged on.

At last the scene lingered longer than a second when Vytal leaped to avoid another terror, her reflexes obviously slowed from the snap reactions at the start of the chase. She managed to roll to her feet and came up with hands raised to fight when the stone beneath her foot gave way. With a shallow breath caught in her throat, the Nightsister felt the pull of the empty void all around. She could hear the chorus of dead moan and cry out. Her heart caught in her throat as she felt the fall once more...

And, again, she slammed into the ground. A soft cough of blood followed the sudden appearance of ground. The hisses and growers, scraps and clangs of beasts were faint, but growing stronger by the second. Whatever she'd ended up now it wasn't far enough. It would never be far enough. Here no map existed, no path lay fixed beneath one's feet. Where one entered was not the place one left, and where one fell was not where they rose again. She had come seeking the strength to protect those she cared for most deeply. She'd come to gather the power necessary to protect her Nightsisters that would venture into the Above against their Mother's wishes. Now, it seemed, she would die here instead... At least, she thought ruefully, her soul would not have far to travel now.

Not content to wait to be some foul wretch's toy, however, Vytal rose to her feet one last time. She turned and before her stood a door over a hundred feet high. How high, she could not say. In fact it seemed to grow as she sought to assign a number to it. Never so much the top was out of sight, but somehow it grew nonetheless.

With her right arm cradling her midsection, Vytal limped toward the door. Something so tall would have to be massive, but little strength remained. Vytal drew upon her desire to see her Sister again, all of her Sisters, and the Song of Survival sung by the many horrors of home; the sweet perfume of all she loved would empower the spell to open these doors. She would throw everything into it. To salvation or damnation.

Shockingly, the towering doors soundlessly began to part. Vytal stumbled through the crack, and once through found they had shut as though they'd never parted at all. The sound of her pursuers no longer hounded her in this place. No time for thought was her's to hold, however, as her eye beheld a radiant figure atop a throne, and she felt them beckon.

Without a single step, Vytal stood before the figure whose features could not be seen in this spell, washed out by a bright, green light that consumed them. The Nightsister reached forward with her right hand at the figure's face. All trace of blood and injury had been washed from her form; the aches and pains gone. None of it warranted a second's thought as her fingers drew near...

A soft gasp fell from Vytal's black lips as some semblance of self returned. "Pom, be careful--"

The vision of the throne room with a ceiling that stretched well beyond sight returned. In it sat the indescribable figure upon their throne, but Vytal was no where to be seen. "You are a Daughter of Dathomir," the voice conveyed a harmony of both male and female. "If you seek these memories, I will provide them to you."

In a flourish of green mist, Vytal as she was now appeared off to the side. "No," she snapped. "Pom has chosen her own Path. I will help her remember this past life if she wills it."

"Ah, Defiant Daughter. There you are," the chorus chuckled softly. Then its tone grew deep and the air began to press down upon them, "I would know the names of those that would sell you, Daughter. Speak." Its focus had turned back to Pom. The sense of it probing the woman's very being through the spell would prickle along her flesh as it sought the answer.

Tag: [member="Pom Stych Tivé"]​

 

[Pom Stych Tivé]

​At first Pom was confused by the path Vytal travelled, leading to an undisclosed destination, but she felt a strange comfort in the looming darkness. Home. It was her alignment, undiminished. Her body scrambled to survive here at first, like an animal. But soon her mind unlocked. She moved past the instinctive sense of fear over her incredible loss of control, and finally calmed, which lead her to feel she was merely being lead through something, instead of physically working through it to conquer it. She then fretted not over the journey, thinking the end must hold an amazing gift.

And what lay at the end of the journey, dumbfounded the Nightsister. It had been such a long time since she had basked within this presence. Tears formed instantly within her eyes as she fell to her knees. "Home," slipped from her lips, like the name of the most precious gem. But he is beyond description, beyond any word to describe splendor. She could do him no justice to honor him.

"It's you," she marveled like a child, as she knelt before her true Master, her head respectively bowed low, and arms outstretched to her sides. He spoke to her, not through any nightmother, but directly to her. Never before had she felt her god so personable.

Vytal issued a warning, while her god offered to heal her spiritual wounds. Pom did not understand what troubled Vytal so. If she had only told her why, instead of being so seclusive. This is what Pom needed, to be reconnected to her roots; and Vytal issues a warning? How long Pom kept her own secret to herself, but her secret is about herself. Here Vytal hid god from Pom? Did she truly not realize how desperately Pom had been struggling with feelings of separation from their god, since the moment she left Dathomir? What purpose had Vytal to hide this wonderful ability to literally connect with god's throne?

"The only way I can serve you well, is to become all that I can be." Learning her origins had gotten in the way of her growth, and her quest to understand the universe since she had left Dathomir. Perhaps it was all because of her own questions about herself that she saw no further than her own troubles. "I have never left Dathomir before. I did not know how to find you." Then she realized something, something that astounded her. It is said that the Fanged God's reach is limited to Dathomir…perhaps because no Nightsister has ever left Dathomir to live elsewhere before…that she knew of. Pom looked at [member="Vytal Noctura"] and wondered, 'Unless we are near to Dathomir now?' The wonder she felt filled her eyes.

Most certainly she accepts a blessing from her god! In all honesty she thought about actually receiving the offer she desired. But a fleeting apprehension plagued her mind. "Some," she answered; she decided she only wanted access to some of her memories. "I want to forget people from my past. I want to forget the love and the loss that limits my concentration. I want the return of my abilities. I want to come into my power, without hinderance…if I may, my lord."

But what payment shall her god require of her?

 

[Vytal Noctura]

The formless figure listened to the child speak. "A Willful Child. A Wrathful Child. Now, a Ravenous Child. Perhaps soon I will reach all my children by your hand," the melody crowed.

Vytal snorted. Her eyes swung to that of Pom as she prostrated herself before the one thing above all they grew up worshiping. The source of power for the Nightsisters. The Embodiment of who they were. Something given a masculine identifier despite their matriarchal preoccupation. It had been a relief to find neither biological sex seemed to apply. Though Vytal was all too aware what was seen here and now was by Their will -- it was not the only form, but it was the most common. "Pom," she reached out verbally to her Sister.

"Did you say it not yourself, Defiant One?" A chuckle rumbled through the chamber. "It is hers to choose."

It wasn't that Pom should be afraid or even spurn what was now before her, but it was all too easy to surrender before its splendor. No matter what else they beheld, this was still a spirit. One of enormous, perhaps limitless power. Yet all the same rules applied now as they did elsewhere in the many realms. It was dangerous to agree to things when you were not aware of the depth of their nature or the consequences that would result. Regardless, Pom seemed to welcome such consequences -- sought them out even. To forget? Vytal's lips thinned. Why hadn't Pom throw her suffering into her Sister's lap? Perhaps she'd been trying, but now there was something that would exploit her moment of emotional weakness. Perhaps not nefariously, but it was exploitation.

A hand lifted from the throne and with it came currents of energy that swept about Pom's body. They hugged her form until she began to lift in the air before the throne. "You will have what you most desire, Daughter of Dathomir, so long as you kneel before my throne. In return, I will know the names of those that have lost their way; and you will return to me in the end. You will join your Sisters and Brothers in these halls that day." The god before them would also see the world through Pom's eyes. Just as she sought to commune directly, so too did their god. It was tiresome hearing so little of what transpired in their realm. Most tiresome. So when one offered to by the eyes and ears of their god, it was accepted gladly.

What wonders it might have been, but Pom would find the touch beyond the mortal world like cold fire that washed over one's body. It would both pass quickly, and yet last a lifetime. Power flowed into her and through her. The currents swept about in streams about the woman suspended in the air. After only a short time the green flows began to concentrate on a spot above and between Pom's breasts, and when their light faded an amulet of onyx was nestled there upon a silver chain about Pom's neck. It carried the memories she desired not, and her desire for power forth and hardened them into the amulet now bestowed upon her.

Gently the Nightsister was lowered back to the ground. "It is done, Daughter. Your Path remains your own. I look forward to observing your progress."

Vytal drew close to Pom in case her Sister needed any help remaining upright after the experience. "Are you okay?"

"Now, Daughters, you should depart." Laughter echoed all around. "Before the Defiant One's body succumbs from bridging two worlds."

Tag: [member="Pom Stych Tivé"]​

 

[Pom Stych Tivé]

It is a lucky thing for the Nightsisters that their Fanged God is described as male as when he had lived. For they all at some time fell in love with him, and like men, they too used him to satisfy their desires. He is a proud and virile god.

But her god had asked for her devotion. What would she tell Mom? How would Pom find him again? She would need ask Vytal to show her the way? Or is this his promise to come and find her, himself? Fascinating, to be his eyes, does this mean he will never leave? She did not have to fret, for once her mind formulated the mere idea, she realized the answer! What had we done to warrant this most wonderful communion?!

The touch of your god, wether painful or slaying by any manner, can never be one which ought be feared. It was the very same she remembered from the altar so many times before she left Dathomir. She was no longer the reincarnation of a soul who could only remember snippets of what she lost long ago and could not truly recreate today, a personification of loss, no longer resurrected flesh, but now a godly woven esse.

Conditioning is what happened next. Two lifetimes' length of happenings which lead to self loathing were picked apart and all that remained was her will and knowhow. Her love for her sister was not challenged for [member="Vytal Noctura"] had never intended harm to Pomsty. Neither did she forget those who built her up, [member="Darth Metus"] who shared with her his unique abilities. It was the few who would covet her, for her craft, her heart, her soul. Their memory burnt away like dry leaves in the fire. Her head cleared, as all that longed for her Late son, Kæstyl, and her obligatory feelings toward Shaidin, her befuddling interest in the aloof Hevn, all stripped away from the forefront, removed from obstructing her from reaching her goals; for her goals were also her god's goals for her.

Her Master had his Phobis Device into which he poured his personal demons, and like it, Pomsty's Fanged God granted her his own token which would serve like a source of strength and focus. What he stripped from her, he compounded into a black sphere before her eyes, like a tear in space. He spoke of her impending progress, and how could Pomsty disappoint her god? Darth Metus many times told her to get out there with the KO and represent him; if she would aspire now to make her god happy, she hopes her Master too would discover something about her deserving of his praise.

The black Onyx the Fanged God created represented death to her past self. How she felt as a result of the gift he granted her by far outweighed how she imagined she would. Her eyes glistened with sheer adoration for her god. How long it had been that she was unable to locate him! "Please, never leave me again!" she begged of him. "I suffered so without you!" As he had been in her past, her god would return to become her obsession once more, and none shall ever overshadow him again; she will see to this, her vow!

As their god released her, she felt sadness that they should part. Vytal should know that Pomsty is perfectly fine! "Huh?" she swooned when the Fanged God released her and bid them return to their responsibilities of their physical lives. She wanted to stay supported by Vytal, and as Vytal turned to lead her away, Pomsty kept looking back towards him, longingly. He promised she would return to him when this life is finished; she thought about how wonderful that will be, and she shall let no one sway her from her goals!

As they walked, she soon could not even remember the names of those she had longed to forget, for the Fanged God was not one to disappoint! How he must cherish his daughters to be so attentive!

Pom eventually started walking on her own accord. Aware that their journey is in deed a physical one, and not a mere visualization birthed of Vytal's memory, Pom fed her sister with her new found power which she drew from all over their external surroundings. This place, she would find it again, and it would be cultivated to energize magick.

One Nightsister is a force of reckoning…​

Two, orchestrate death.​

 

[Vytal Noctura]

The throne room soon vanished as suddenly as it had come as though a mirage cast upon the Nightsisters. All around them the greenery of the garden returned. Pom would feel or find Vytal toppling over to one side onto the grass before them. The ring of green flame had gone out, and various Witches and Warlocks began to move in quickly with a clamor of concern and confusion.

What had seemed physical had been spiritual the entire time; their bodies never once having departed from the garden so far as any outside observer knew. The touch of the spiritual realm they had entered, however, was just as real and its effects just as profound. Despite the nature of their visit Elsewhere, however, the amulet bestowed on Pom as a gift was real. No one would have noticed it suddenly appear as their eyes had been drawn to the ebb and flow of the energy around the two Sisters.

Vytal slowly began to push herself up from the ground. "I am well," she breathed even as her heart and her head pounded in unison. Their Sisters and Brothers were concerned. Rightfully so if someone became consumed by their own spell as the Nightsisters had. Fortunately their dabbling had no lasting consequences -- or none they had not intended.

There was much about what Pom had seen and experienced that had gone unsaid. A great deal in fact. However, Vytal would not utter a word of it surrounded by the mother hens of their Order. Perhaps if Pom could extract themselves and placate the worries of their number before they attempted to haul the pale woman off to a healer... There were matters Vytal sought to address with her Sister as well. Personal interests which too did not belong aired before such a crowd. Obviously far more to talk about than a mere confession of having been a soul reborn that Pom intended that day.

Tag: [member="Pom Stych Tivé"]​

 

[Pom Stych Tivé]

Pom rose from where she sat as [member="Vytal Noctura"] toppled over. She knelt down before her sister and took her head upon her lap. She would definitely want to study such a fantastic feat as Vytal had achieved. And yet such wondrous things were what Nightmothers did, except for the current sitting Nightmother, while although remarkable, simply was no daughter of Dathomir.

Pom softly set her palm down upon Vytal’s forehead and pressed Darkside energy into her being for utilization of healing and revitalization. In doing so something odd clicked inside her thoughts. Their god while living in his physical embodiment was a master of the Darkside of the Force. Her memory of her own abilities in the Force returned to her consciousness, Pomsty determines she shall explore her own pathway to reach him through this shared medium. Her own connection reestablished to the Darkside shall be the means through which she channels her god. Pomsty remembers no difference between herself before she was brought before him, to this moment; as far as her memory is concerned, she was always whole and able to utilize both the Force and her magick. Why could she not see this simple pathway before?! Already his lingering essence has taught her a most vital skill!

Pomsty knew Vytal never liked to be fussed over, and she knew well enough to shew away the onlookers. They knew far too well the two sisters are prone to get themselves into strange magickal circumstances through their ongoing experimentations.

She smiled down at Vytal who would soon be feeling well enough recovered. A new luster sparked within her eyes for all that she missed had been returned to her in those few moments communing with her god. Whatever it was that had sidetracked her goals, is conquered now. She remembered this little about herself before going to the foot of his throne.

Even better, her entire being reveled in his lingering presence. His presence was all empowering. He made her feel whole, welcomed her as she is. He is the personification of Home, family, a true father...all that matters.

How do you move forward when life just climaxed?! Pom fell in love with him all over again like his child, her faith renewed. From where she sat, she felt a connection lingering to everything around her, like she finally sat still long enough to give her undivided attention. She could see the Force flowing through everything.

She could see that Vytal wishes to discuss something pressing. Pom Apparated them both into the little room with the door, leaving their final destination choice up to her sister.

 

[Vytal Noctura]

Vytal conjured the study where Hevn, Pom, and herself had once violated causality itself. Not out of an effort to make her Sister remember anything, but for its seclusion. She led the way inside and waited for Pom to pass before ensuring the doorway was firmly sealed. A part of the Nightsister wished they had access to something such as the Nightmother's chamber where there were almost certainly countless wards against surveillance. As things were, she would rely on those stealthily placed in this study.

With a sigh, Vytal crossed over to a cabinet and pulled open its doors to reveal a chilled pitcher of water. Two glasses were poured, and then brought to the table between the chairs. One set down for Pom, and one held in Vytal's own hand. She took the opportunity to drink a hearty amount of the fluid before the nearly empty glass was set down.

"Now you know." The Nightsister's head turned so she could fix her Sister with her eyes. She gestured toward the chairs for them to sit and discuss the matter further; and claimed a spot for herself to let the exhaustion from what had transpire flow into the plush comforts.

"I could not tell you, Pom. It is... an arrangement made. I cannot tell anyone. What happened in the garden was either the will of the Fanged God, or a loophole in the nature of the spell that binds me to him." Vytal shook her head slightly. "You asked me--" her eyes narrowed ever so much before a sigh followed, "no, nevermind." Of course she could not mention what had been seen in Pom's mind and soul; she no longer remembered it. Vytal was curious what magickal reason had been put in place to explain their sharing then. "Why didn't we ever speak of this, Pom? You felt alone? Cut off from the Fanged God. Is that why you embraced these other Great Spirits? I thought you had found purpose here, away from home. I did not know..." A frown crossed Vytal's black lips.

Tag: [member="Pom Stych Tivé"]​

 

[Pom Stych Tivé]

Pom shook her head in affirmation after all that [member="Vytal Noctura"] has spoken. She instinctively raised her hand to cover her mouth as she could not help but begin to tear. She had been silently suffering a great sense of loss till this very day. She laid down her head upon Vytal’s knee, her eyes cast over the room at nothing in particular within the distance.

"After I left dathomir, I had been to so many places. I met Sith, Jenari… When I finally came here, even though it was my sentence," for having killed a couple, "it is the first place I could be myself, without falling under judging, even mocking eyes. Well…not so much as anywhere else." She knew Vytal felt the curious stares. The Mandragora are quite welcoming, but the CIS in general leave a lot to be desired in ways of inclusiveness. Some speak sweeter to their would be slaves than the witches.

Pomsty had honestly forgotten her motives for avoiding Dathomir, all the lies about her beginnings, and about Shaidin likely searching for her there. "I just could not bring myself to go home again, not with all the wonderful things we can learn from here. I accepted their gods because I could not touch mine. You could. I apologize to you, for I did not believe you at first, then when you proved it by doing marvelous spells, I felt jealousy towards you." She did regret those feelings. But she knew Vytal would forgive her during this intimate moment of truth.

"Thank you for giving him back to me. I have so needed to revive my faith in him. It hurt me so badly when he would not behold me." She never thought a day like today would ever occur, especially after how long it has been that she trudged along without being connected to the Fanged God.

"I do not understand what binding you have to him, or what spell you reference being exclusive. If you don't mind, I would like to know. Please do not keep me from him. I want to learn what you did. I must learn it! It is a wonderful thing you can do, and that you hid this from me all this time… Why did you? Surely you knew he was out of my reach." She whispered, "Mom is no Fanged God. She is neutral, and it hurts to utilize her power sometimes, as she has no regard for our alignment when she touches us." A Nightsister needs her own god, and the better to be needed by him in return.

”Vytal, taking me to him today, you made me feel like a little girl again doing my Theology studies. I haven’t felt such fulfillment in years. I don’t know if you can understand what that’s like, to walk around outside his grace. I hope you never have to. Truly...thank you. Don’t hide this gift. Please. I need it so! Don't ever take so long at it again!”

She has her long studied knowledge of the Darkside of the Force brought to light now, and she will soon discover that she can channel the Fanged God through it on her own.

 

[Vytal Noctura]

Vytal understood her Sister's plight, which she had fought. She too had seen their eyes -- only any that dared too near to the Nightsister would learn the stories of their kind were true. Indeed, Vytal Noctura would gladly pluck the eyes from their heads if they desired to stare at her so openly. There was no exotic beauty or captivating power they might take hold for themselves in her body. Only certain death to those unworthy of speaking to her directly. The offworlders could be cruel, and so in turn was the Moirai of the Fates of Midnight. There had been no mercy granted to any that sought to lay a hand on those with her among the stars.

With a sigh, Vytal caressed Pom's dark hair as she lay there. Her Sister had done only what had been necessary to survive, of course. The Fates had suffered the weakness of leaving home, and only because of Vytal's 'ritual' that miraculously created Ichor had they not been defenseless before the many Offworlders. A ritual that for the most part was a lie. It worked, of course, but it could not squeeze blood from a rock -- and the galaxy was full of many rocks.

"I learned of a ritual that could open a portal Beyond," Pom's Sister began to recount from the beginning. "To an undying land. One of power that once devoured many in the galaxy. That gave rise to the Warlock Gate on Dathomir. It was an ancient ritual that required making sacrifices at several altars spread over the realm. Only once the altars were appeased could I unlock the Heart. You saw this," Vytal remarked, "in the drop of blood in the bowl before I fell into the Nether."

She tipped her head back in the chair while her fingers slowed in caressing her Sister's hair. "You witnessed the trial. A path of suffering. Of sacrifice. It is one where if you go there seeking Him, you will never find His gates. Only the lost are ever truly saved." For only the lost need it. "I fell before him as you did, Pom. I beheld the glory of the Fanged God and wept."

"He spoke to me of many things. Things I cannot utter here on pain of death. But to see it done, a gift was bestowed." Vytal's chin lowered and the mirth upon her lips at the remembering faded. "At a cost. That is why I cautioned you, my Sister. The world of Spirits does not behave as we do. Does not think as we do. I was young and bared myself utterly before His glory... I do not regret it, yet I do not wish it upon you."

A smile returned to Vytal's dark lips then as her eyes fell to Pom. "I see a glimmer to your eye, Sister. That you might know communion with Him even in this world. He is always with you, and now you are bound to him. You will never be alone again. Just as you never were with me at your side. Please, Pom," she learned down to lightly kiss her Sister's crown, "tell me of your pain in the future. Let me aid you. I would never abandon you, whatever happened." Even if 'whatever' could never be spoken of again. A history lost in the spur of the moment desire to be rid of her anguish and her pain. Now to speak of the past would only draw a blank stare, or at worst bring forth unwanted memories.

Tag: [member="Pom Stych Tivé"]​

 

[Pom Stych Tivé]

"Warlock's Gate?" she asked. It was only something that she heard about after it had been generated. It wasn't authentic Nightsister magick, but understandable why those who made the porthole chose Dathomir for its location, Nightsister life being so closely knit with the spirits. It seemed meant for those who longed to commune with the dead but were unable without its aid of magick, such is not a skill a Nightsister lacks!

"I do not believe I would prefer to delve that deeply into the netherworld. It is one thing to command it, but I certainly do not seek to become a part of it. We have time enough to be dead as it is, quite a long, long time. I hope it is far in our future."

Pom could not recall ever hearing anyone warn about touching their god before. She never thought Nightmothers had secrets that were unsharable. To be honest, it hurt to think there was something out there that for one thing, would threaten to kill [member="Vytal Noctura"] should she speak these truths, and secondly be something not meant to be shared with anyone else. Maybe it is all some test of the Fanged God specifically designed to exalt Vytal in the end. "I have a feeling this secret you keep, will pay off for you greatly in time. While nobody wants to think there is a knowledge they are forbidden from knowing, you keep this secret always. Just as you pay the price, so shall you be provided sustenance. And yet, know that if it is ever too much to bear, there is nothing I would not do for you. I would bear it with you, for all our lives we have grown, studied, and come into power together."

Pom understood what her sister meant about recognizing a probable method for reaching the power of the Fanged God. In the back of her mind, she had been formulating the process ever since she laid eyes upon him. Her black Onyx whirred in her ears.

Pomsty sprang up next to Vytal, "Do you hear it?" she asked. The Onyx felt hot to the touch. "If I do succeed at bridging his power to us all the way out here, I shall tell you! No more danger for you then!"

Pom turned in the seat and hugged her sister.

 

[Vytal Noctura]

Vytal's eyes widened before her arms encircled her Sister. A smile touched the pale woman's black lips as they embraced. "I know, Pom. I was so happy to see you again. There is no end to the power we will uncover together." Every word was absolutely true. For what reason had the Nightsisters to think otherwise? The Mandragora had resources through the backing of the Confederacy, and drive through each of its many members. Everything was within their reach.

The only thing that mellowed Vytal's eyes as the two embraced and her face was out of sight of her dear Sister was an uncomfortable truth. One she did not wish to utter in that very moment, but would not keep from Pom in time. Regardless of how far they went, how strong they became, or the many arts they uncovered the danger Pom would try to take from Vytal's shoulders would always be there. There was only one way to truly dispense with it, and it would be an affront to everything they two believed in.

It was not a great burden. Vytal had come to accept it. To own it. It did not own her, nor would it so long as she had strength. Simply a consequence of being too eager to embrace things far beyond her comprehension at the time. Something she had hoped to spare Pom of, though fortunately it proved unnecessary. Her Sister had her own unspoken ramifications to contend with, though most she would say were nothing but blessings; they were not dangerous. Or, at least, Vytal did not believe they were at present. Only time would tell.

After a moment Pom's sister moved to draw back. Her brow furrowed as she looked down at the source of a growing discomfort. "Your amulet is hot," she exclaimed as reason for breaking their hug. Truly, it was quite unbearable for any prolonged exposure.

Tag: [member="Pom Stych Tivé"]​

 

[Pom Stych Tivé]

Part 2​

Bridging Knowledge​

When Pom had first come into the CIS, she held fast to her beliefs that the Force those sensitive believe in could very well have been orchestrated by spirits. Darth Metus tried his darnedest to make her understand this power from the angle of its disconnection. But the Nightsister was taught all her life to raise her power off the coat tales of other entities, never fully generated by her own control.

So much flooded into comprehension that had evaded clarity over the past year. The bridge between the Fanged God of Dathomir and the Nightsister’s reach was constructed and the distance closed. No longer was the power of the greatest Ichor limited to his children there. Pom understood that her god was a Master living among the Darkside of the Force which indeed stretches its reach across the galaxy. That she could see and believe in this Force now, it became the life medium through which the Master may be channeled. He came, he supplied, and all he asked for in return at the moment is to be worshipped. Thus he began to build a new empire of worshippers akin to Dathomir, blossoming in the midst of two of his most devoted daughters who dwell upon Ryloth.

Pom had remained shut up for weeks. The potions’ store alighted with hanging Talismans, a few thousand deep and counting. Her body aches for nourishment beyond that of Potions to keep her form alive.

We must have more. We shall. We need more.

The Talismans harbored the Fanged God's sacred Ichor. A witch could let loose his power to enhance the desired spell he or she may cast. It shall serve well the objective and defenses necessary for any feat to be achieved, in war, in learning, throughout life.

She studied control of the powers of the Darkside of the Force which frightened her before understanding fell into place. Pom stood within the realm of the Netherworld which [member="Vytal Noctura"] had shown to her, right behind her sister's shoulder.

"Come. Let me show you what I have been working on now." she said. "Sorry for the delay. It is time."

Pom knew not how to map her way through this realm, but to step into and out of it. She would think of the destination and Vytal would lead the way to it. Time matters not here. If Pom ever need wait for Vytal, it is no matter that she must. She felt it much more interesting a means of travel, and all the while to be closer to the Fanged God when traveling this way, than to use the physical doors within the castle. Pom utilized this new skill as often as she may, in order to perfect her speed at locating, or even answering the personal summoning of, Vytal.

Pom had not informed her sister of her current personal initiative. She hopes to arm the adept Mandragora witches with the Spirit of Ichor for use during CIS Missions, or coven gatherings. She knew Vytal would be pleased with the creation of infusing the Talismans with the vital Spirit Ichor if not surprised at her accomplishment. She only hopes that she can explain to Vytal how she does it!

Pom stands behind Vytal and waits for her sister to step into the Netherworld and lead Pom back to the potions' store. Maybe someday in her future, Pom shall figure out how to perform this splendid gift which is unique to Vytal!

 

[Vytal Noctura]

"They look upon this power as a tool. They use it as a weapon," Vytal's voice carried through the Audience Hall. "We carry in us the ability to reshape the very fabric of reality, and all the many see is a means to kill one another with the flick of a wrist."

The Nightsister's brow swept down toward the bridge of her nose as she listened to the Other speak. Patience they said. Sufferance. A sharp tsk sounded as the Dathomiri woman fought to bite her tongue.

"Too few listen to our words. They do not understand what is at their fingertips if they would look beyond the power they themselves hold." With a sigh, Vytal turned and took a step away. She rolled one shoulder than the other trying to work out the fire in her blood in isolation. She looked back over one shoulder, "By the time they understand it may be too late."

Vytal strode from the Audience Hall with a scowl on her lips. Perhaps there was wisdom in not being too hasty, but the Mandragora could not sit and hope people came to realize magick was not 'quaint' or a trivial means of conjuring the Force. The more she learned, the more they were intertwined. Perhaps not identical, but certainly not separate either. The Witches and Warlocks could draw upon a limitless source of power -- one that could consume them as surely as the Force did greedy wielders of the Dark -- and together could unend all of creation! And yet the masses looked to the Jedi and their philosophy, or the Sith and their selfishness. They salivated over the strength of one, and could not see what could be. Even their own number were so often alone on the field of battle.

As she strode toward the door that led out into the inner courtyard, a familiar sense washed over Vytal. The Nightsister stopped and turned to look back at her Sister as the world around her warped into the dark of the other realm.

"Pom," the name gushed from Vytal as both surprise and relief. Time? Part of her had no patience for vague word games, but it was Pom and she had just been in an argument about working together. Her ire would simply have to burn itself down in silence. "I wondered how long you would seclude yourself. Others began to wonder if you were creating an elixir of immortality. Show me."

The Netherworld was not a realm explored lightly, and travel through its corridors was not without peril. Fortunately, she had a benefactor that saw fit to provide her a metaphorical lantern through the darkness. So, Vytal focused her thoughts into the way before them. She did not impart any words of caution, as her Sister had enjoyed this particular connection between the two of them over the time since it manifested. Instead, one Dathomiri woman led the other across the relatively short physical jaunt to her Stores.

A rift appeared against one wall for the two women to step back out into the material world once more. Vytal stepped aside to let her Sister led in her new found venture, curious what had ensnared her all this time.

Tag: [member="Pom Stych Tivé"]​