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A Room in the Castle

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#1
Varas

Varas

    Orphan

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Varas’s quarters were sparsely decorated attesting to the fact that she lived on Mustafar with her father. Her mother was absent, and the memories of the Dark Jedi Hapan only flickered through the clone’s brain like a holofilm with missing scenes.
 
The window from her bedroom overlook a lava strewn landscape, dark and foreboding, but in a way, reminiscent of the planet on which she was born - Kamino. Sunlight to the blonde was an anathema. If she saw light of any kind, a vague, unsettled feeling overcame her, threatening to break her concentration.
 
She thrived much better in the dark.
 
Varas wasn’t sure where her father was at this moment, likely in the meditation chamber so she headed that way. But at the moment, she wandered around the castle, her feet bare and cold upon the stone and metal flooring, seeking his council.
 


#2
Kyrel Ren

Kyrel Ren

    The Enforcer

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Kyrel weeks after Kamino brought his daughter Varas to the Ancient Fortress of Darth Vader on the very planet he was created. It was mostly his dwelling his home. None of the Ren had used it or even had a use for it, while Kyrel with his obsession for the former Sith Lord claimed it for his own as he what he called himself the heir to Vader.  But was he powerful as the former Dark Lord that he did not know, for now, he meditated quietly within the bacta tank of the meditation chamber? The Praetorian guards stood behind the tank, warriors and devoted to the Supreme Leader such as Kyrel or the rest of the Ren were. They guarded him when he was at his most vulnerable, his scarred burnt flesh often cooled by the liquids of bacta, his thoughts were often filled with rage and pain. The only emotions he has ever known since losing the life that he once had as Thomas Kyrel Captain of the 212th Iron Squadron. 

 

He quietly meditated often keeping his eyes shut, and his mind drifted to memories of a different life, something different than being a monster of course. He had often wondered what happened if he was never on this path, to begin with, would he be a different man? Would he know kindness, joy, sorrow, love? He did not know and so was one of the many mysteries he had pondered. From the back of his mind, he had heard a voice he hadn't heard in a very long time. "Greetings Monster."  He could recognize it as Darth Thaxsis or the spirit of him at least, after facing his trials and his duel with the spirit inside of his own mind for control of his body, he had banished the spirit into a prison within his mind. Kyrel Responded in a tone that sounded irritating."What is it you want to fool?"  He laughed and retorted with "Even after gaining so much power, you are still weak, even though you have managed to save your bloodline, I know that spawn of yours stirs great conflict within you. One day she will be your end, that I can guarantee"   What the spirit was saying was true, but Kyrel would not give the spirit the satisfaction and so before banishing the spirit once more he spoke with a yell.  "Silence remember you are my prisoner and an addition to my power. Begone I will not have you disturb me."  

 

He said and then he did not hear the voice, he was now content with being in his solitude, he then sensed his Daughter approach, as she approached the chamber and towards the bacta tank, the guards at first made a move to stop her with their vibro axes, but then stopped as Kyrel opened his eyes and slowly the bacta started draining from chamber. 

 

Varas Kyrel



#3
Varas

Varas

    Orphan

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She did not bother to knock upon the door. Kyrel had been teaching her to take what was hers, and that she needed to live up to her storied destiny, though the guards had other notions to entertain her ambitions today. They approached her as though she was a common enemy, vibroaxes up to protect the Master Ren.
 
As though he controlled not only their lives but their physical bodies, they halted when her father opened his bloodshot eyes. Again, she found it difficult to look at his disfigured torso and distorted face, especially semi-nude and floating in bacta. Varas could not tell which knee-jerk emotion was worse - her feeling that behind his armor he was too broken and vulnerable, or immense pride that he so easily transcended the rules of vanity.
 
His daughter wore a black, silk robe with Bardottan monk symbols upon it, and she pulled it around her waist tighter as though Kyrel’s presence alone had dropped the temperature a couple of degrees.
 
While she easily disregarded his Praetorian, her silver eyes gazed upon her father with a kind of melancholy respect. She was not the kind of girl who smiled often, but much of that had to do with the confusion inside of her head.
 
“Can I get you your robes, Father?” she asked, glancing over to his clothing folded near the bacta tank.