Ask While My Guitar Gently Weeps

Emryc Thorne

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He had recently come out of the bacta tank and still wasn’t quite mobile. The injury on his leg had almost taken it clean off, and it would be some time before he could put pressure on it again. Emryc half worried he would walk with a permanent limp.

Of course, none of his injuries came remotely close to the complete loss of sight. He had been frustrated, he had lashed out, he had choked one of the nurses. However, he had since worked hard to meditate and find his center again. There was whirling rage within him that only spiked from being informed about having his possessions confiscated. The Eternal evidently deemed him ‘unfit for duty’ after he brought two FWA planets under Sith control.

Emryc sat upright in his bed, focusing his mind and trying to train his thoughts. He worked on honing on things using the Force entirely. He may have been blind, but he knew there were certain cultures like Miraluka that relied entirely on Force sight. He pondered on means to learn their ways, but it would first involve ensuring he couldn’t be detected too easily as a dark sider. He presumed an entire culture relying on using the Force as sight would be able to pick up his leanings easier.

The half Sephi exhaled, bringing up his chrono and clicking a button to have a robotic voice tell him the time.

@Mr. Teatime
 

Darth Stolas

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Morgan had visited this medical facility before. Once when Emryc had been delivered to it and again while he was in the middle of bacta treatment. Both were incredibly difficult for him, seeing the blinded and bleeding half-Sephi carted around wrapped in crimson bandages for first aid and taken in for emergency treatment. Seeing him floating in the tank, sedated and still. The latter had been a relief, a brief sense of calm, but it was no balm to the burning coals that stared through the glass or the white-knuckle tightness of his hands.

He'd heard reports of Emryc waking up, having demanded them with none seeing fit to deny him.

The first sign of Morgan's arrival was the spike of fear shortly followed by a carefully even voice announcing from the doorway.


"You have a visitor."

Light shoes shuffled away from the doorway. Leather boots sharply clacked on the linoleum flooring down the hall, closer and closer, and they carried with them a flashing, thundering storm. They stopped and turned in the doorway, paused, and then clacked inside with the soft whisper of moving cloth, then a thunk as the door closed behind them. Scents wafted in to join those of sterilized medical equipment, bacta, and laundered sheets.

Citrus, floral and fruity, mixed with herbaceous notes of mint and basil and several others in concert along with the acrid smoke from a cigarra. At the side of Emryc's bed a chair clattered and scraped against the ground as it was moved aside while the footsteps grew closer and moved faster, a thump as something landed in the seat.

A familiar presence brushed against his affectionately in habitual greeting, but carried with it other things as well. There was sorrow there, and longing, and a hint of loneliness.

But most of all there was fury that was not for Emryc, and the sensation that he was being watched.


"Emryc."

Morgan's tone reflected the hurt at seeing him in a hospital bed again, strangled and strained, although Emryc's ears would be able to pick up the low growling that rumbled through beneath his voice. Cloth shuffled as he leaned over the bed to embrace him in a hug while being careful to avoid anything below the shoulder, as gentle as he could be at the moment with mixed success.



@Sreeya
 

Emryc Thorne

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His rage began to subside as soon as he smelled the citrus and other notes that were distinctly Morgan. No one else in the galaxy had that particular combination of smells, and it was even easier to pick up with an entire sense absent for him. Emryc visibly stiffened, slightly uncomfortable at his presence when he was like this.

He heard Morgan say his name, and for the first time ever Emryc did not turn to look into those golden eyes. The silvers vacantly gazed off past where Morgan stood, the pupils never reacting to the light that shined on his eyes. There was nothing but the sound of Morgan shuffling around and grabbing a seat. He could hear the pain in the Firrerreo’s voice, having grown to understand the subtle undertones in every inflection.

Emryc felt him come closer and embrace him, and he did nothing in response at first. He drowned himself in Morgan’s smell, drawing it in and letting it take him to a place where he was content. It was only then that his uninjured arm came up to wrap gingerly around the man.

The half Sephi was not one to feel sorry for himself, but even he had to accept that he was in a low place right now. He purposely withdrew from everyone, but he knew there was no stopping Morgan when he set his mind to something.

“I...I’m not the best man I can be right now,” Emryc said quietly, choosing his words carefully. It was difficult to keep the pain out of his tone, but it was still just subtle enough to where only Morgan would pick up on it.

@Mr. Teatime
 

Darth Stolas

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The weight and pressure of Morgan did not subside from where it was. He'd caught the look of Emryc's eyes, not unfocused but unable to take him in, the tenseness as he shifted. Those silvers he loved could not see, as he'd said, as the medical staff had confirmed afterwards, looking past him at nothing at all. His injuries were severe, but none so much as the loss of his sight.

At first the half-Sephi was still but as his arm came up Morgan sank in closer, his head settling in near the other man's and still trying to avoid the multitude of bruises and breaks. An arm moved and Emryc would find fingers gently combing through his hair, the prince's breath hitching slightly as he spoke, both from the words and the undertones that showed he was struggling with the state he was in.


"You live yet," Morgan answered back just as quietly beneath a pointed ear in a tone of mixed relief and concern. "You will be. We do not kneel." A soft cheek pressed against Emryc's that had the warm, wet streak of tears down its side. His soldier boy was carried home but still he lived. More tears fell and his breathing was uneven, drops falling down to land on Emryc's shoulder.

He openly sobbed, chest heaving and back shaking beneath the half-Sephi's good arm around him. It wasn't even the first time Morgan had cried over this and he tried to stifle it, but he felt powerless to help the man he loved and had for the entire time he'd waited to him to wake. Emryc was hurt and struggling and it pained the prince deep in his chest. Still, he refused to let go of him.


"I love you."



@Sreeya
 

Emryc Thorne

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Emryc exhaled softly as he felt Morgan press into him and felt fingers brushing lovingly into his hair. Blindness had shattered everything Emryc had ever known, and it hit him in all the ways he was ever confident and sure about himself. The half Sephi felt Morgan cry against him, the rise and fall of his chest and the hot tears that poured from him. Emryc sat silently through it all, a rock against which waves crashed. As he had always been.

You do not kneel,” Emryc said a bit harsher than intended. His arm slipped away from Morgan, his head tilting away from the Firrerreo. He was angry at what happened. He was angry he had lost his ship. He was angry he would never see Morgan again. He was angry he was deemed unfit for duty. He was angry he wasn’t given death instead of being reduced to this.

Emryc drew in a slow breath and exhaled softly. While he let go of Morgan, he didn’t resist against the Firrerreo holding him. There were no comforting gestures or words from Emryc, and it was clear he was in a very dark place this very moment.

“I don’t want you to see me like this, Morgan,” He stated curtly. The frost in his tone was back.

@Mr. Teatime
 

Darth Stolas

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Morgan backed off a little when Emryc spoke, his head raising up off his shoulder as the half-Sephi's arm dropped away. The crying steadily subsided for the most part and cloth rustled again as he wiped the stinging tears from his face with that hand that had been running through unkempt hair.

Once more Emryc would get the sensation he was being watched, under the fine lens of an intense and focused eye. The prince did not let go of him but his fingers curled and already tumultuous storm clouds roiled where he stood.
He said nothing back at first, only watched the other man's features as he spoke. The heat of his gaze was an almost palpable thing in those few seconds that were only broken when Emryc spoke again.

A much louder growl rumbled through the air, spiking for a moment in volume to the degree a clipboard clattered to the ground outside in the hall as someone dropped in in surprise.


"We," the Drast insisted stubbornly, not a point he would ever budge on. To Morgan the severe injuries he'd suffered at the hands of Jedi were as serious as an attack on his family itself. Emryc was as good as for all he was concerned. Morgan sat fully down into his chair and scooted it closer to the bed, the growling vanishing as quickly as it'd come like a peal of thunder.

The sensation of being watched vanished along with it with a rustling of cloth as the prince stared out the window.


"Then I will listen instead, and watch the birds." Emryc's attitude hurt the prince. But he wasn't fond of giving up on much of anything without a reason and the frost was matched with fire just as it had always been. Morgan took a long, deep breath, nearly a sigh, before saying anything else, and his hand found Emryc's uninjured one to hold.

"Talak was returned with Max. As you asked." He paused a moment, thumb running over the back of Emryc's fingers. His own were shaking ever so slightly.

"Allow me this visit. Please. I won't have time soon."


@Sreeya
 

Emryc Thorne

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Emryc was completely silent for a moment, but the rage was clear on his face in its subtle ways. His jaw tightened, his nostrils flared and the fingers of his uninjured arm curled.

“I’m not a kriffing Drast, Morgan,” He growled right back, finally snapping, “I don’t have mountains of credits to fund new research to fix my eyes. I don’t have piles of credits to buy my ship that they took from me back. I don’t have the connections and means to make my problems in life just go away. I have to work through them like any normal person would,” He hissed at the prince, “I don’t need you coming in here feeling sorry for me, Morgan. I don’t need your pity and I certainly..”

He spoke through gritted teeth, the Force suddenly pulsing through the room in a wave that Morgan would feel tangibly, “Don’t kriffing need you telling me you suddenly won’t have time because you can dance and sing your way back to life as usual.”

Emryc was frustrated he couldn’t look the man in the eye, but his head snapped in his general direction, “Go get your god damned throne, Morgan. Go claim the galaxy. Go take whatever the kriff you want like you and your people always do, but leave me out of your plans. I know how to fix my own damn problems. Always have. Always will."

With a flick of his hand, the chair Morgan was sitting on skidded back across the floor and closer to the door.

His vitals were setting off alarms now and he released another pulse with the Force till the monitor cracked and began to smoke.

@Mr. Teatime
 

Darth Stolas

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True to his word Morgan wasn't looking at his boyfriend when the rage was building, catching only a vague hint of it before Emryc's harsh words came spilling forth in a tidal wave. Morgan recoiled at the sudden change. He'd never seen the other man lose his temper like that and almost didn't think it had been possible.

The reaction was instinctual, especially in his current state, and his own fury spiked in retaliation. Golden eyes still did not look at him. Emryc spoke of the Drasts and their wealth, of how his ship was taken, of an easy life where problems just went away. He spoke of pity, and of thrones, and dancing and singing and solving his own problems. Morgan tried to focus on it and analyze every word like he always did, but Emryc, his Emryc, was hurting and he was as well.

Darth Stolas lost his temper.

He and the chair skidded back along the ground in a wave of energy and a vicious, snarling, barking roar followed immediately afterward. Stolas stood, gripped the chair, and slammed the entire thing into the now-smoking vitals monitor with unnatural and fury-fueled strength.


"I," the chair struck the machine again with a loud crunch and clatter of machinery, "have never," it whistled through the air and struck again, hitting through to the floor with a wrench of rending metal, "for a second" it whipped around and struck aside a small plastic table, "Kriffing pitied you!"

With another roar he flung the chair wholly across the room through the glass window, sending it and shards of shattered glass raining down outside as he stepped back to the bed. Still he did not look at Emryc.

"You are what I want! I just-" Very suddenly something seemed to shift, like the fire that had just then been blazing went out and burned down to coals far too quickly. There was a soft thump as Morgan leaned into the wall by the bed, breathing heavily. He stared at the broken window and stubbornly held himself up. Morgan could not refute what he'd said about his wealth or his connections but he didn't know why that mattered, either. He didn't understand why Emryc was reacting like this, not in this moment of panic and anger, and especially not in his current condition. There was a long pause.

Perhaps it was for the best that Emryc couldn't see him, the hurt and pain and confusion on his face. Couldn't see the dark rings around the prince's eyes from lack of sleep or the way his pupils were narrowed sharply to feral slits from starvation. Couldn't see how helpless he felt to do anything to help.


"I promised."

His voice was barely a strangled whisper.



@Sreeya
 

Emryc Thorne

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Emryc remained silent and stone faced as Morgan lashed out. He had expected it, and his sensitive ears picked up every loud crash and bang from Morgan destroying the room. Broken electronics beeped shrilly until Morgan put a stop to it and the sound of shattering glass erupted. He heard Morgan truly swear for the first time. Emryc didn’t budge through it all, silently sitting on his bed as the IV needle was torn from his arm from the ruckus.

He heard Morgan’s words and he heard the pain in them. He didn’t need to see the man to know he was hurting. Emryc exhaled slowly, trying to find calm amidst a storm. It was always up to him to find that calm. He was never allowed to crack. He was never allowed to waver. This was just yet another reminder that he always needed to be the rock. He always needed to keep his walls up. He always needed to find tranquility. This was exactly why he needed to do what he was planning. Why he needed to be far away from everyone.

And why he needed to be the furthest away from the man he loved.

Silence hung for a long moment after Morgan whispered his words. Emryc knew alarms had been set off and the hospital staff would be rushing in any moment. The half Sephi said nothing as he reached for a datapad and tossed it in Morgan’s direction so it landed at his feet. In it were details from the station that laid out his ship being confiscated, how he was unfit for duty, how his rank as a Sith Lord would potentially be stripped, how the Eternal flagged him as a problem.

Emryc said nothing as his head tilted the other direction, a soft sigh escaping him. When he spoke, his tone was as frosty as the first day they had ever met. He had a chillingly calm resolve and he was right back to having those several layers of ice between who he showed and who he was. He had withdrawn back into the only safe place he knew - back into the deep confines of his psyche where he joined the beast that dwelled there.

“Just go.”
 

Darth Stolas

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It was quiet for a time where Morgan felt he could only hear the way his heart pounded in his ears. In his head and in his heart it was all chaos and ache and the fire burned too low to consume it. Golden eyes stared at the floor during that time as thoughts ran wild and unbidden through his tired mind. None of it made any sense to him and he couldn't form them into words anyway.

Morgan only moved again when the datapad fell in front of him, blinking at at it. He reached slowly toward it and then froze as the man he loved spoke those icy words. He didn't want him here and he couldn't help. Slender fingers picked up the datapad and he rose back up to his full height, looking around for a moment at the damage he'd done. None of it was what he'd wanted. None of it was purposeful, just blind anger.

Black boots turned and clacked against the tile as he walked toward the door. The prince stopped before it for only a second, his hand floating above the control to open it. He didn't want to go and he hesitated. Then he sighed deeply.


"Bag is for you."

Then he opened the door and, dejected, he left. The bag and its contents lay untouched on another chair.


//End Thread


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