Private Which Do You Dread More? The Echo or the Answer?

[Vanya Aklin]

Tag: Rann Thress
Wearing: xXx
Location: Castle Vureshakkairn

Lifetimes flickered like the sun in autumn leaves; they were beautiful to watch but all too brief. Through each of them, she had remained eternal; that was the only way to describe her. Since the moment the Nightsister had emerged into the galaxies, found by Asher Mossa on Ryloth, her presence within the Confederacy and later within the Ascendary had been undeniable. And yet she remained a mystery to many, refusing acquaintance with those perceived to be beneath her, with those that had been deamed as unworthy.

Her arrogance was legendary and entirely deserved.

And yet, despite this reputation, there was one individual who had lingered in her mind throughout the long years. Rann Thress.

The two had never had the privilege of meeting one another, not formally. There had been a time long ago when she had seen him in the crowd gathered before her at Castle Vureshakkairn. Twilight had dusted the world countless times since that night, and yet the memories were ever present. He had been a fly on the wall, a ghost in a sea of the living, but she had seen him; she had known him. His presence that evening had been like a beacon. Even now, Vanya could recall the vibrating symphony of turmoil and darkness—an endless trail that would be the end of him—that had rolled from him in near-tangible waves.

Nothing more had come from that night. Both had their own business to attend to—hers a ritual, his the Chiss woman who had stood so close to his side, a silent guardian of sorts. To feel his presence on the planet again was unexpected, even more so when she felt his approach to the castle. Yet as unexpected as it was, it was not surprising to the Nightmother. She knew the effect she had on people and how she lingered in their minds, a mystery wrapped in an enigma waiting to be unravelled, a power waiting to be seen and claimed. Vanya doubled Rann's reason for coming were that simple.

Perhaps it had been her own allure that brought him within the castle grounds once more; perhaps it was something entirely different. Fear: He might have wanted to confront that which frightened him, as surely the Nightsisters and their powers did. Or maybe he'd overcome his fear and had come to gloat.

Whatever his reasons, they were his own at that moment, but he would find the path to the castle clear and unobstructed. None would attempt to intercept him as she allowed her own presence to act as a beacon to him.
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[Rann Thress]

Witches are so skeevy. Rann thought to himself as he made his approach to the castle, the presence of the Nightmother shining so bright in his mind he couldn't avoid her even if he wanted to. Her home, a castle he had been to long ago, looked like something out of a horror vid. Big, beautiful, haunting, and seemingly empty. Rann was sure he was being watched, but even reaching out with the Force he felt nothing concrete. Whispers on the edge of his eyes and mind, coaxing him forward.

It worked, for him. He was here to see her afterall. He needed to. The darkness in his mind continued to creep itself further into his mind, awakening after so long dormant. He needed the wall back up. He needed to be sure that the he that he was was him...not him. Always Rann. Never not.

The Force could do it...a Jedi Master could do it. They'd do it wrong, but they'd do it. For a lightsider to do it, HE would be gone, and Rann would remain. But with Him gone all that power that Rann drew upon would also be gone. A Sith Lord could do it. They'd do it wrong....but they'd do it. A darksider would free Him, and banish Rann. All the power would be there, all the rage and anger...but Rann would be gone. His life, his love, his everything. Snuffed out.

No.... It had to be a nightsister. No, the Nightmother. She could help blend the two, yet keep them separate. The power of the dark, the control of the light. The grey that Rann had to be, the balance.

The Nightmother.

As Rann approached the massive gates of the castle, he inhaled to announce himself but found the doors already swinging upon for him revealing the cavernous entrance hall. Without a moments hesitation, Rann stepped forward and the doors began to close behind him leaving Rann secluded in the empty room. He took a few steps forward, sensing where the Nightmother was... and stopped for a moment to think. He wondered but for a moment the proper manners of this situation. Does he wait to be called? Does he barge forward? What path doesn't get him turned into a newt? He exhaled, and decided to press forward. She was lit up like a beacon in the Force. If she didn't want him to come to her she was certainly trying an interesting tactic.

Rann continued forward, arriving at another set of massive doors he wagered were some manner of throne room doors, and waited. This was the fairest compromise, he felt. Just as he knew where she was, he had no doubt she knew where he was. He wouldn't barge into this next room. Out of respect.

And so, he waited, hands crossed behind his back, for the meeting with the Nightmother.

Vanya Aklin

 

[Vanya Aklin]

Tag: Rann Thress
Wearing: xXx
Location: Castle Vureshakkairn

Vanya wondered every so briefly if he knew what he was projecting. He was not hiding it as well as he might have thought he was. It was so familiar to her, reminding her of the time she had kept Ash Warren prisoner, when she had tortured and questioned the woman. Ash had been in a similar predicament—caught between the light and the dark.

The struggle within the man was a melody that would lure others to him—those of the light, those of the dark, everyone. It left the Nightmother curious as to what made him seek her out. Did he think that she would help? Was that his intention? Surely he understood that her help did not come without a price, and deals done in the dark would always come to light.

Nails painted midnight black tapped along the stonework alter as she followed his approach through the Force, watching him as though she walked by his side. The witches who stood guard and watched him allowed him to pass at her command. And as he came to stand before the doors to the Black Ritual Hall, her lips drew into a soft smile. Those same fingers had risen, curled in a silent command that drew the doors open. "Now is not the time for shyness, Rann Thress."

Her voice has been as soft as her smile, her words laced with a hint of mocking, perhaps even sarcasm or pity. There was more she could have said and addressed him by, master, exile, rogue, son of the vice lord. She could have said all this and more, but like herself, Rann was more than his titles.

Fingers curled once more to wrap invisible tendrils of the Force around him in a lover's embrace to lure him forward a step at a time, as though to give him the illusion of control when there was none for him to have at that moment. This was her home, and her word was law.

The approach to the alter would be like walking a death row march—slow, agonisingly so. The room would be familiar to him. This was where she had seen him years ago, a face in the crowd while blood pooled in the crevices of the stones only to be greedily swallowed. It was within this room that all light had been engulfed and snuffed out, only to be reignited as something unknown to him and those that watched was welcomed into the castle.

Vanya wondered if he would remember, if he would feel the pull of her, physical and imaginary, if he would crawl like a dog to her feet and beg for her help as so many had done. She imagined that he would not; he was Isley's son, after all. Rann was born of strong stock, even if he had not found that strength within himself.

"Tell me," she asked as her obsidian hues narrowed upon him. How well known it was that curiosity killed the cat. But was he the cat or something else? "What is it that brings you to the castle?"
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[Rann Thress]

The second pair of doors swung open just as Rann knew they would, and at the end of this large hall was the Nightmother herself, just as Rann knew she would be.

The simple use of his name was something he was always preferential to. Well, at least these days he was. Never striving to be anything more than just Rann Thress. It was nice. He felt...calmed. The feeling of the Force throughout the hall, and surrounding him, didn't cause any alarm as he found himself almost subconsciously moving forward closer towards his hostess.
He remembered the first and last time he had been here. Dark magick, unnatural and unnerving, coursed through the hall as the Nightmother ascended to her position. Rann remembered the feeling he had felt that night, fear and uncertainty, a lack of control that he had grown so accustomed to. It was...not a pleasant experience. But pleasantry wouldn't do what he needed. Something weird and unnatural was needed. He would not leave until he received it regardless of whatever it may cost.

The question posed wasn't surprising to Rann, although he did wonder if it was unnecessary. She knew he was here, she knew he was coming, she knew who he was. He didn't think it was that much of a stretch that she knew why he was here.

"Nightmother." He said as he approached, bowing his head as a show of respect to the position.

"I've come to ask a favor of you." He continued, stopping just short of her position, "I'm not going to mince words or speak flowery. Very simply, there is a darkness in me I need...controlled. But not removed. I need..." He paused, moving his hand around in a circular way as if to summon the thoughts forward, thinking carefully about what to say next, "I need to...find balance." He said, finally, before finishing, "I need the light inside me and the dark inside me to be made one entity. One being. One where I am the master of my own fate, not beholden to impulse or dogma."

He stopped and pointed a finger at the Nightmother, "And I believe you are my best chance at doing this. I can't trust a Jedi or Sith to know of Balance."
He bowed again, "I ask for your help, and whatever you require in exchange I am....willing to discuss." He chose his words carefully. He didn't want to write a blank check.

Unnatural magick was what created the dark inside Rann, afterall. Unnatural magick would be what controlled it...forever.


Vanya Aklin

 

[Vanya Aklin]

Tag: Rann Thress
Wearing: xXx
Location: Castle Vureshakkairn

Like a statue, she watched him: restraint and posed bones, a coiled spine, and patient teeth.

He had come to ask a favour. That in and of itself should have been boring; it was a predictable explanation. But the witch did not roll obsidian eyes, and she did not cast him aside; for that, he would be grateful. With each word spoken, each dark truth, and each admission that was torn from his throat, he became more important than those who had come before him.

This was a man caught in the in-between. This was a man who did not kowtow to his fear, and she certainly instilled it within him. This was a man who spoke candidly and without flowery words meant to impress. This was a man who faced the Nightmother with squared shoulders and his head raised.

And he had piqued her interest.

The click of heels echoed off the stonework as the first step was taken. “The Sith and Jedi are so much alike that it hurts. Both are lacking when it comes to balance,” she said, words laced and dripping with disdain. No secret had ever been that Vanya despised Jedi and Sith; Dredi was perhaps the only Jedi the Nightsister had ever tolerated.

“But me? I am Vanya, who is fire, and wit, and hate,” she went on, speaking with unshakable confidence. Those same words had once been spat at those who wished to shackle her. Vanya circled him with slow strides, each one made with deliberate intent, as though she were sizing him up. It was not fear that befell her, but a heightened sense of things. Each touch, smell, and taste was a kaleidoscope of emotions.

Nails found the metal hand. The click-clack of them walking up his wrist, then along his forearm, filled the room as she came to stand before him, meeting his eyes, daring him to look away. “What you are asking for will not be pleasant—not for you. Are you certain it is what you want? To be beholden to me?" He wished to be freed of impulse and dogma but what he asked for came with a steep price, and until it was paid, he would be hers.
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[Rann Thress]

“It’s worth it. You can’t put a price on peace of mind.” He said, meeting her gaze and holding it with certainty.

“But I haven’t yet agreed to anything,” he added, continuing to choose his words with care.

“Whatever process this requires. It, too, is worth it. I don’t care if it hurts, if it challenges me, whatever. I need this. I need you.” He gestured a hand towards the Nightmother.

“But I won’t sacrifice who I am or who I want to be to get this from you. I will leave this place and your service better than I was when I entered, not worse. You can do this for me, and whatever I can do for you, I will.”

Vanya Aklin

 

[Vanya Aklin]

Tag: Rann Thress
Wearing: xXx
Location: Castle Vureshakkairn

Full lips drew back into a smile of feigned pleasantries — one could always put a price on freedom. But he seemed firm to his conviction: he would suffer unbelievably if his sense of self were preserved and maintained. Fingers that once danced upon the metal of his arm clutched at his throat, not to choke but to prevent any form of retreat. His height over her was unimportant as she dragged him against her until hardly a breath could find space between them.

Rann would feel it — the draw of power and how the force moved through him and her and them. Obsidian hues peered into his blue orbs, watching as though seeing more than her reflection in his pupils. Words danced upon her devil's tongue, things that could demanded or expected in exchange for her help. A life for a life, a child for a child. Vitani and Vahlia were yet to be mated, their futures bargaining chips with which Vanya could play this game, but neither had seemed an acceptable exchange.

No, instead, she would not decide yet. That could come later, and he would not refuse, for what was done this evening could be undone. From the altar came blackened smoke; something approached and was welcomed by the Nightmother. "Tenebrae nos capiunt." Words were spoken, each syllable delicate, pleasant to hear. And Vanya held him until it enveloped them both.
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[Rann Thress]

The hand upon his throat startled him immensely, and Rann fought every natural instinct to defend himself; catching his hand as it shot up to protect himself, clenching his fist to keep himself from doing something...unwise. He resigned himself to let the Nightmother observe him, inspect him as if he was a prized animal. There was not much else for him to do, in this world she was King, him merely a visitor. She knew what she was doing, surely, so surely this was part of her deal.

He listened to her as she spoke, yet did not understand the words. But he felt...cold. It was a feeling he remembered, as if her words affected the air around them, turning it chilly. Banishing the warmth, the Light, from the room. Rann did not hide the concern that crept across his face. Wondering if....perhaps it was a mistake to come here after all. He felt though, at this point, the deal was struck. He was here, and he was hers now.

Vanya Aklin

 

[Vanya Aklin]

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Tag: Rann Thress
Wearing: xXx
Location: Castle Vureshakkairn

Rann would find that in that very moment, neither time nor space appeared to exist – there was only the abyss stretching for eons, encompassing all, weighing heavy on his shoulders. He stood alone at a crossroads, a path diverged, the edge of the unknown.

Yet, he was not alone. The Nightmother walked with him in the darkness, her presence surrounding him, enveloping him, the fire of her phoenix soul warming his lonely bones. In the void, she moved without being seen. Yet, he would feel her at his side, the delicate caress of his fingers along his arm, and the way she moved through his mind, seeking to understand the damage that had been done.

“Let me in,” her voice was soft, lips moving against the shell of his ear as her incorporeal form flittered around him. Her words were wrapped in a seductive compulsion, a beckon he would find difficult to ignore. She was there, already in his mind, demanding his submission. “You let darkness into your mind. . . let it awake and fester inside you. . . show me when this happened so that I might understand.”
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