The crystal sat on her desk where the holocron once did.
Staring at it, amber eyes were lost in thought, head bowed slightly. So long ago, it felt like, she had come to the Dark Temple of Bal'demnic and triumphed over the Dark Side Presence there, declaring herself perfect, above the need of the Force. The arrogance she had then, the foresight she would have needed, kept her thoughts turning. The Entity had shown her as her deepest desires were; a Dark Lord, a Lady of will and dominion over the Darkness. She wanted answers then, and much to her regret, had gotten them.
And then, there was the assault on the Ranger Base. She still heard the dim screams of Corran in pain, ringing in her ears as the heavy plasma cannons of the rogue CorSec ship screeched overhead. That sound would linger in her mind for the rest of her living days. Unselfconsciously, her hands clenched in her lap. One whole, perfect... the other, scarred, mottled with fern-like arches where the Sith's dying strike lanced up her arm, forever imprinting on her flesh. She had chosen sides, and now bore the marks of it.
However... they weren't marks she was ashamed of. She never bothered to hide them, even after recovery. No... instead it was now just her and the crystal.
The thing which called her.
Call it instinct, call it whatever they wanted... she knew, somehow, what to do. The design just had to take shape, and she would take it.
She walked a long road alone, what better than her own weapon to wield it to defend those which she cared for and coveted?
She closed her eyes, and the crystal began to rise. Slowly, pieces began to assemble. Emitter, chambers, switch. Piece by piece, hovering as it began to take shape. The metal was a pale, sleek silver hilt, the phrik from one of the vibroblades of the Sith witch she killed. The black grip, ebon wood, simple, elegant, sleek. By the time she opened her eyes, it rested in her palm, thumb over the activation switch. It blazed to life in a signature hum, and her eyes widened at the color, the brilliance of it washing the room. It was one she had never seen before.
Soft purple, darker at its' core. For a few beats longer she admired the blade before extinguishing it, setting it back down on the table.
"...It's done."
Time for a new path in life. And the next time anyone stood in her way... she'd be ready.
Staring at it, amber eyes were lost in thought, head bowed slightly. So long ago, it felt like, she had come to the Dark Temple of Bal'demnic and triumphed over the Dark Side Presence there, declaring herself perfect, above the need of the Force. The arrogance she had then, the foresight she would have needed, kept her thoughts turning. The Entity had shown her as her deepest desires were; a Dark Lord, a Lady of will and dominion over the Darkness. She wanted answers then, and much to her regret, had gotten them.
And then, there was the assault on the Ranger Base. She still heard the dim screams of Corran in pain, ringing in her ears as the heavy plasma cannons of the rogue CorSec ship screeched overhead. That sound would linger in her mind for the rest of her living days. Unselfconsciously, her hands clenched in her lap. One whole, perfect... the other, scarred, mottled with fern-like arches where the Sith's dying strike lanced up her arm, forever imprinting on her flesh. She had chosen sides, and now bore the marks of it.
However... they weren't marks she was ashamed of. She never bothered to hide them, even after recovery. No... instead it was now just her and the crystal.
The thing which called her.
Call it instinct, call it whatever they wanted... she knew, somehow, what to do. The design just had to take shape, and she would take it.
She walked a long road alone, what better than her own weapon to wield it to defend those which she cared for and coveted?
She closed her eyes, and the crystal began to rise. Slowly, pieces began to assemble. Emitter, chambers, switch. Piece by piece, hovering as it began to take shape. The metal was a pale, sleek silver hilt, the phrik from one of the vibroblades of the Sith witch she killed. The black grip, ebon wood, simple, elegant, sleek. By the time she opened her eyes, it rested in her palm, thumb over the activation switch. It blazed to life in a signature hum, and her eyes widened at the color, the brilliance of it washing the room. It was one she had never seen before.
Soft purple, darker at its' core. For a few beats longer she admired the blade before extinguishing it, setting it back down on the table.
"...It's done."
Time for a new path in life. And the next time anyone stood in her way... she'd be ready.