Ask Arau'kesh - Aftermath

[J’aver Shi’eth]

J’aver hardly remembered anything after the dueling ring on Mustafar had reached its zenith. They remembered the pain of molten duraplast that had run down their throat and rapidly cooled even as it burnt through their esophagus to drip onto their chest. They remembered that they had called Cremek’s lightsaber to their hand to protect his corpse from the unwashed masses. Even now, they didn’t understand why their instincts had guided them to do that.

After that everything was a blur.

J’av remembered collapsing to the ground, they heard the faint beeping of medical droids. Fuzzy memories of half heard conversations whispered by surgeons echoed in their ears. The damage they had sustained was catastrophic, they would need extensive cybernetic reconstruction. Then there was only more blinding pain as flesh was sliced, cut, pulled, and removed. In its place, cold steel was put in and sealed into place.

_/\___/\___/\___/\___/\___/\___/\___/\___/\___/\___/\___/\___/\___/\___/\___/\___/\___/\___/\_

When J’av awoke it was to the sound of what remained of their throat trying to open and breathe. It was the undertone of a flesh-y wet pop that accented every inhale they were forced to take. There was no mechanical breath-y exhalation of the rebreather that had been grafted to their face. Instead, each breath came in as a gasp and every exhale did as well, each accented by the sound of tortured flesh popping around metal.

At first, they were disoriented. J’aver didn’t recognize the sound they heard as their own breathing. Their hand slowly reached up to their face and found a bulky rebreather where their jaw and nose had been. Panic flushed their system as their hand explored something entirely foreign to them.

_/\___/\___/\___/\__/\__/\__/\__/\__/\__/\_/\_/\_/\_/\_/\_/\_/\_/\_/\_/\_/\_/\_/\_/\_/\_/\_/\_

The heart monitor picked up rapidly in response to what J’aver was feeling. They felt their heart thudding in their ears but the forced breathing didn’t speed up to match the increased pulse. The sensation of false suffocation flooded their senses as a woman in a white robe rounded into their line of sight. She looked past them and gave an order in an alien tongue before she returned her attention to them.

“You are alive.” She told them. “You must relax.” She instructed. “The Dark Lord is on her wa-“ Her voice was cut off as her throat was sealed off by an invisible hand.

J’aver’s red eyes bore down on her, their fear channeled into might, and that might was focused entirely on silencing the woman. With just a little more pressure they could crush her windpipe. Somehow, they knew it. Then the last thing she had said dawned on them, the Dark Lord was coming.

Their world cleared.

The woman was a doctor, she was turning blue before them. J’aver her released and she collapsed to the floor in a heap of sputtering and gagging. J’aver felt their heart slow back to a normal pace. The entire time their forced breathing never changed its pace, the fleshy pop accenting each deep, painful breath. Those hateful eyes fell onto the woman as she tried to recover. A unfamiliar hollow, tinny, and emotionless voice echoed from them.

“When will she be here?” It asked.

@Altaris

 

[Darth Tempest]

Only hours had passed since the conclusion of the Arau’kesh - and the Dark Lord wasted no time in visiting its victor that moment he stabilized.

For weeks, Mustafar had whispered and prepared for the impending duel between Master and Champion - only for the fighting to reach its dramatic end within moments of sabers being drawn. A master had been usurped of his title and position - elevating another in his place. Neither of the participants had perished during the duel as was tradition, but it was clear that J’aver had edged out a victory over Cremek. Even if it was a victory that came with nearly fatal injuries as a result.

It mattered little to Tempest. Whatever feud had developed between them was quelled - and it left the Dark Lord with little patience for continued infighting amongst their ranks.

Steady, methodical steps drove the Dark Lord towards the Medbay - having only just departed her confrontation with a certain Pureblood. It was imperative to understand precisely what kind of individual J’aver was, as he was not expected to fill the shoes of a Sith who’d already proven themselves to be a capable asset.

Before the doctor had an opportunity to respond, the durasteel doors of the Medbay hissed open - revealing the cloaked figure of Tempest making her approach. Standing and promptly bowing, the woman promptly made her exit from the room - still attempting to stifle the coughing from being nearly choked to death. Whatever his raging emotions, the Dark Lord wouldn’t tolerate needlessly brutalizing a member of her own staff.

With arms crossed over her chest, Tempest came to stand a few paces from J’aver’s bedside, her visor tilting down to gaze upon the newly-annointed Master. “You survived.” She said matter of factly. The Dark Lord gave no indication whether she was pleased or displeased by that turn of events.

 

[J’aver Shi’eth]

The words had barely escaped their vocabulator when the doors slid apart with a hiss. The dark clad and cloaked feminine figure of the Dark Lord marched into the room. J'aver attempted to follow suit with the hospital staff, they tried to roll from their bed to drop to a knee with their head dropped low. However, a maze of monitoring wires and IVs, prevented them from doing so. Instead, J'aver sat their bed up as straight as possible, their head dropped to break eye contract out of respect to Darth Tempest's power and mantle.

"My Lord." A voice hollow and mechanical echoed out even as auto-breathers filled J'aver's lungs with air. "It would appear that I did." J'aver's new voice replied.

Their head and eyes wouldn't lift until the Dark Lord had released them to do so. Instead, J'aver's eyes focused solely on the bed they laid in, their mind unable to block out the fleshy popping of their own respirations. The feeling of their lungs steadily expanding to their maximum was an unfamiliar and wholly unwelcomed one.

"What would you have of me my Lord?" They asked, the genuine curiosity bleached clean by their new, emotionless voice.

@Altaris