Ask Out of Class

[Vossari Khaldun]

Another day at the academy. Vossari had been summoned here by an administrator to discuss...something. Was he slacking as an acolyte, a slackolyte? Nah, couldn't be that. They felt like they had accomplished so much....
....
....
Actually, that wasn't true at all. They felt like a mediocre piece of shit. Someone who had no right to the title of Sith, and someone too stupid and weak to ever ascend to the title of Champion. Their attempts at humor often pushed the boundaries of those more powerful than them. And in the Sith Order, when you broke the rules, the consequences were more sever than detention. Worse than all of that, they lacked vision, drive - their art had become stale, their music senile, and their work as a warrior in the Sith reflected those two categories. Stale and senile. It was infuriating.

They assumed they had been finally cast aside by Param as they had most everyone else in their life. A Sith rarely took on two acolytes, so he heard. Perhaps his manipulation of her thoughts on the ship had been a step too far, and she, too, wanter herself rid of him. Vossari sauntered to an chamber in the academy - the room he was summoned to in this missive. Cradling an ice pack on a broken nose, Vossari swung their legs idly, dressed in a casual outfit for their day back at the academy.

Whatever it was gonna be today, it could be worse than getting knocked around by Karys on a dingy bar on Nar Shadda.

@Apollyon

 

[Karys]

THEME​

Karys had received a message about who was assigned to him as his first Apprentice. An annoyed groan escaped his lips as he read the name. Vossari Khaldun. Literally the last Acolyte he’d want to have to share his knowledge with and train. He thought of rejecting him outright, then his mind thought to Azar’s passion, teaching the next generation. Karys knew he’d be annoyed if he didn’t at least try to make a proper Sith out of the Wrean youth. He’d grumble and mutter curses to himself as he slipped a simple black robe and sent Vossari a missive of where to meet him.

It was one of the only rooms in the Umbaran academy with one entrance and exit. Karys had used it as a place to jump Dalon all the time.

Karys would arrive at the location a few minutes after Vossari. The door would slide open and Karys would step into the room, his head ducked down to avoid colliding with the door frame. He stood between Vossari and the only way out of the room, his arms crossed his chest as the door slid shut behind him. Karys would lock it with the Force.

“Acolyte Khaldun.” He stated in a dispassionate tone. “I am Sith Champion Karys.” He introduced, completely ignoring any previous interactions they’d have. “You have been assigned to be my Apprentice.” He explained flatly. “I have read your file.” He continued. “It is unimpressive. No accomplishments outside of failure and vandalism.” He judged harshly. “Your previous Master coddled you, that will not be the case beneath my tutelage.” He explained. “I will break you down to your core components and remake you into Sith…” He continued. “…or you will die.” A small smile tugged at his lips when he uttered those words.

@Fine Dining Set

 

[Vossari Khaldun]

Brown eyes shot up as the door scrawled open, and in strode a massive Sith. He looked almost familiar, this robed Sith. Almost..like...KARYS?! What, sucker punching him on Nar Shadda wasn't good enough? Now he had to come down to Umbara and embarrass him more? As Karys spoke, the fury only balled up further in his chest. He was steaming, like fresh water striking a molten hot pan. At his boiling point.

His fists curled up, heart beating out of his chest. He raised it and slammed his fist into the cold, metal wall. Skin around his knuckles cracked off and bled, leaving a red dent on the surface.

All hopes of an easy ride to Champion evaporated. He had plans for the money Param was supposed to give him, a leisurely stroll through his time as acolyte bankrolled by a negligent master. Now, he would have to settle for an abusive master. Yippee.

His nose preemptively hurt as turned to face Karys head on. No accomplishments, huh? Not even Saleucami, where I saved YOUR BOYFRIEND'S life? Well, after endangering it in the first place. The most painful part was he wasn't wrong. Vossari bounced around like a ball inside a can of spray paint, unfocused and focused on the chaotic splatter of themself onto the galaxy. It stung that Karys was right.

"They must not have recorded my greatest feat: Banging your mom last night."

@Apollyon

 

[Karys]

Karys' smirk didn't falter as Vossari started speaking. He didn't flinch when his apprentice tried to insult him. Instead, he took a single, heavy step towards Vossari. He towered above the Wrean as he gazed down on him.

"Are you finished Acolyte?" Karys asked rhetorically. Vossari would find himself incapable of answering as a vicegrip locked around his throat. Karys' eyes would lazily float up, Vossari's feet would leave the ground as he suffocated. While Karys would never show it, the display of power was draining on him. While he was certainly more powerful than Vossari, it wasn't by much. This was the lingering consequence of not tending to his relationship with the Force for so long.

Karys would slowly and silently circle Vossari as he hung in the air, strangled. He would feel Karys' disapproving gaze as it bore upon him but any emotion beyond this disapproval would be hidden away. Finally, shortly before black rings began to appear at the edges of Vossari's vision, Karys would release him. "You will learn to respect your betters Apprentice." Karys told him plainly.

Karys was unflinching, uncompromising, he wasn't the drunk, high, and jealous man Vossari had encountered on Nar Shadda. Instead, here on Umbara, he was a Sith and he wouldn't tolerate anything less than the respect that was due to him. "As I was saying, Apprentice." He started once more. "While I must break you to rebuild you, I am not unfair." Karys continued. "Your successes will be rewarded in equal parts to your failures. Lessons will be provided as you prove to me that you've mastered what has already been taught." Karys explained. "I will make you into a powerful Sith or you will be destroyed by your own ineptitude." Karys told his new Apprentice with finality.

He would allow a quiet to fall between them. His golden gaze burned into Vossari. Then the words that had been spoken by countless Sith Masters to their Apprentices echoed from Karys' lips. "Kneel, Apprentice."

If Vossari denied him, Karys would spend more of his precious reserves to force submission upon him. This was not a partnership. This was not up for discussion. Vossari would learn but he would serve or Karys would force that yoke upon him.

@Fine Dining Set

 

[Vossari Khaldun]

It was worth it. As Vossari struggled, silently gurgling and straining against the choke, he was lifted higher, higher, higher, to stare the massive Massasi directly in the eyes. The feeling of being choked, the thrill of the pain, the loss of control was almost tantalizing at this point. To press on the muscular, powerful boundaries of the man before him was enough to rev up Vossari's engines.

They were released to sputtering, coughing, and gasping for air. They dropped to hands and knees as they regained their strength, listening to Karys's booming voice as he announced his intentions. Staring at the ground, he was shaking, enraged, as a smile grew to his face. He read between the lines of Karys's words - he had potential. Right now, they were little more than an unrefined slab of marble. But, carved in the right, big, strong, red, hands, Vossari knew that they would become a sight to behold.

Vossari rose off his hand to single a knee, meeting the gaze of the Sith towering before him. In this moment, Vossari finally felt a pull towards his purpose. Enjoined with the mighty warrior that stared down at him. His smile remained as amber eyes gleamed with ambition back up at Karys. "I am...yours to command." For once, words came to form without a hint of irony. Powerful Sith...those were the only two words Vossari needed to hear.

@Apollyon

 

[Karys]

Karys’ eyes pierced Vossari as the Acolyte made his pledge to him. Karys wouldn’t smoke, his face remained passive, neutral, and unimpressed. It was a mask that could never slip. Beneath it, Karys was finally beginning to understand why Azar had tried to deny their relationship to train him. While Karys didn’t love or even care for Vossari, he felt the burden of responsibility on his shoulders.

Vossari’s failures were now synonymous with his own.

Karys would produce a data chip, on it was uploaded the coordinates of his ship. Karys would toss his down at Vossari as he knelt. “Good.” Karys replied curtly. “You will rise and gather your possessions Apprentice.” He instructed. “You will have one hour to arrive at those coordinates, you will need to be prepared for several weeks of travel.” He continued. “If you are late, I will leave you behind. If you are left behind, I will inform the Academy to purge you from the rosters.” Karys informed Vossari coldly.

The Wrean wouldn’t need an explanation on what that meant. There was no leaving the Sith and surviving. It would be exactly as Karys told Vossari, failure would mean death.

With that Karys would move from the room, he would offer Vossari no aid in standing to his feet. Karys expected his apprentice to recover and stand on his own without coddling or help. As he left, Karys would do so without the flowing grace his Master had been capable of. Instead, Karys moved with rigid purpose, Azar had always been a scholar and arcanist. Karys was neither of those things, he was something else entirely.

Once Karys had returned to his ship, he would slump into his couch. His body was already recovering from his extended use of the Force, but he was feeling a drain that was larger than what it should have been. Karys would open his EZPhone and send Azar (@Sreeya) a message.

I won’t be home for a few weeks, new apprentice. I love you and I understand now.

Then Karys would set an alarm for half an hour, ensured the entrance to his ship was locked. Then once he was sure his Apprentice wouldn’t be able to see him in an even slightly weakened state, he’d allow himself to rest. This was going to suck.

@Fine Dining Set

 

[Vossari Khaldun]

Vossari remained on the floor for minutes after Karys left. Truthfully, at this point, he had very little to his name. He stole paint cans and borrowed art supplies, his speeder lived on Nar Shadda, his sword with Param, and his lightsaber on his hip. Wait...without Param, how would he get his sword back? Vossari rolled his eyes as he thought about the headache that the future would hold.

They exhaled again. With nothing to bring with, they had little to do for the next hour. As the initial exhilaration, the rush of being alive after being brought to the brink of unconsciousness, faded, it gave way to an entropic feeling of despair. It was moments like these where a practice of meditation came in handy. With nothing better to do, they decided to spend a few minutes just reflecting and clearing their mind. They returned to a soft seat, closing their eyes. They levitated off the floor as they repeated the words of the Qotsisajak, again and again, to clear their mind of vulnerabilities, of all this clutter and noise.

They strained, digging there . The night on Nar Shadda played in his head, being insulted then beaten. Every other time that happened dug on replay. Vossari tried to shut it out. The visions of pain traced back farther - Gamorrean guards hammering him as a youth on Nar Shadda. They were ruthless pigs. His father, on Wrea. He always blamed Vossari for his mother's death. Truthfully, he blamed himself.

He took another breath, trying to clear his mind, to meditate on the Mantra, but he felt powerless to his own mind. His weak emotions raged beneath the surface - despair, worst of all. White hot tears formed at the corner of his eyes as he imagined a future of being berated, beaten, constantly. Of his failures endlessly shoved in his face. His levitation broke as the tears started to flow, free and heavy, from his face. Each drop represented another beating into submission. He was defiant, certainly. But he wasn't invulnerable. All the pain he endured began to affect his psyche.

The privacy of this dark, cold room provided the perfect place for him to finally, really express. All alone, without the expecting eyes of another Sith on him, he could finally just let it out. He cried a cleansing puddle around his face, as cheeks and eyes turned puffier and red.

After a good, long cry, he collected himself, and made his way towards the cafeteria. A few bottles of water and some snacks later, Vossari was at the coordinates that Karys had directed him to, with a few minutes to spare. They knocked on the hangar door. Bang. Bang. Bang.

@Apollyon

 

[Karys]

When Vossari arrived, Karys had been up for a while. He’d changed from his robes and into his usual attire when traveling great distances through hyperspace. When door slid open, Vossari would see Karys in a pair of grey sweatpants, a white T-shirt, and bare feet. Karys inspected his apprentice and what he’d brought with him. If Cyu was desert trash, Vossari must have been the equivalent on Wrea.

Ocean scum.

Karys didn’t allow any of his disappointment in the sorry state of his apprentice to bleed to the surface. His puffy red eyes spoke of an emotional outburst that Karys understood but couldn’t allow himself to sympathize with. Vossari was never a friend, he wouldn’t have found much comfort in Karys even before Nar Shadda, but now Karys was his master. There could be no room for weakness.

“Go to the refresher and clean yourself up, apprentice.” Karys whispered as he stepped out of Vossari’s way to allow him to enter. Karys would point in the direction of the refresher.

When Vossari entered, he’d find evidence of Azar’s morning routine still claiming the majority of the counter space. Karys had left it there intentionally for Vossari to see as a small reminder of who Azar slept beside at night. It was designed to inflict emotional pain, to stoke the flames of jealousy and hate within Vossari. All of them were powerful emotions that Vossari would need for the road ahead.

However, if Vossari looked long enough, he’d find eye drops to clear the redness and cream to reduce swelling and puffiness. When he returned, he’d find Karys pulling out a bed from the couch for him to sleep on. He’d walk past Vossari and into his kitchen to pull a pair of aprons out.

“You will sleep here until you’ve proved your worth Apprentice.” Karys explained coldly. “Set up your things, turn on the holo projector, and then put this on.” Karys continued as he tossed an apron to Vossari. “We begin your first lesson now.”

It was an odd lesson, Karys pulled and set open a cook book written in ur-Kittat on the counter. He intended to use cooking as an object lesson to explain not only the Force but their relationship as Master and Apprentice. It was time to see how well Vossari could be taught.

@Fine Dining Set

 

[Vossari Khaldun]

Vossari obliged wordlessly, the spilled tears leading to a painful, dehydrated headache. A trip to the refresher would be sorely needed, not least so he could not seem so puttering and embarrassing. Vossari slid into the refresher behind Karys, keeping eye contact all the way until the door closed. He shrank behind the door, sighing as they stared into the mirror. They felt almost as pathetic as they looked.

But they didn't make it this far in the Sith just to be some weak-ass bitch. They were going to be Sith. After repeating that mantra several times into the mirror, they cleaned themselves and returned to their room. With an odd look, Vossari put on the apron as he examined the couch-bed. "Beats sleeping on the floor." He dropped his ruck-sack of almost zero personal affects to the bed as he slid next to Karys.

Ur-Kittat. It was a beautiful language, but a difficult one. Individual runes represented words, ideas, sentences, people, places...learning it without being a Pureblood Sith was a siege of attrition - slowly memorizing the near-millions of years of text, history, and language all at once. He'd only made it into the shallow end of the ocean of the Sith language, and already it threatened to drown him.

"All right, champion." Vossari cracked their knuckles and rasped them on the counter. If cooking was their first lesson, maybe this apprenticeship wouldn't be so bad after all. "Whatchu got for me?"

@Apollyon

 

[Karys]

Karys watched as Vossari tossed his ruck onto the bed. His Apprentice was little more than a street urchin. In the long run, that wouldn’t do. For now however, Karys wouldn’t address it. If Vossari proved himself worthy, his stars would change. If he didn’t, his poverty wouldn’t matter.

When Vossari entered the kitchen and read the cookbook, he’d find it written in a particular dialect of Ur-kittat. It was the dialect of Karys’ homeworld and one he knew a novice in the language wouldn’t be able to properly read. The entire thing was written in the Ziosti dialect.

Karys turned to regard his apprentice.

“You will either read the instructions…” He begs. “…or cook the meal.” He explained, gesturing to a countertop of ingredients that Vossari likely hadn’t seen before. “Do you think you can do either without guidance Apprentice?” He asked calmly.

Karys knew he wouldn’t be able to. That was the point. Their first lesson together was an object lesson. Vossari needed to understand the importance of this arrangement. Vossari worked for knowledge, Karys rewarded him with it, and they both benefitted. Nothing would be free for the Wrean acolyte.

@Fine Dining Set

 

[Vossari Khaldun]

A cooking lesson. That was how they were going to train? Was this going to be some bullshit like the Matukai Kid, where he had to do chores to learn secretly learn the skills of martial arts & power? Vossari rolled their eyes, but they knew which role to choose. "I'll cook." They stated flatly. They felt, no matter what, this exercise would be better if they were the one holding the knife.

They stared at the strange assortment of vegetables in front of them. Some looked like more familiar varieties of...peppers, maybe? Some flowers? Why did that plant look like meat? Was any of this meat? Vossari was loathe to admit it, but he understood the purpose of this assignment. They'd have to work together for the foreseeable future. Even if neither of them were particularly enthused by the idea, collaboration would go farther than constant conflict. "No, I don't." They sighed.

"What are we cooking?"

@Apollyon

 

[Karys]

Once Vossari had chosen their role, Karys would walk over to the cook book and lean against the counter. He’d wait for Vossari to approach the ingredients set out before a faint smirk touched his lips. He knew they’d recognize some of what he’d set out and others would be completely alien. That was the point of this exercise, to show them the importance of guidance.

“Magma Stew.” Karys replied cooly. “But first, bring me the glacier peppers.” Karys instructed before turning to the object lesson. “I know some of this is strange to you.” Karys started. “There will be things you already understand about the Force and our Order, there will be other aspects that you do not.” He explained. “That is why you are an Apprentice and I am your Master.” Karys continued. “It is your duty to serve me and my duty to reward you with knowledge and test you when you succeed...” He would pause then to inspect what Vossari had brought him. “…correct mistakes…” He continued. “…and punish failure.”

@Fine Dining Set

 

[Vossari Khaldun]

Vossari knew the path ahead with Karys would not be easy. But now, Vossari was beginning to see perhaps a shade of what Azar saw in Karys: A strong, charismatic, and determined man. Vossari imagined, momentarily, being swept up in those broad arms, feeling his presence not as an acolyte but as a lover. One could get lost in his rippling muscles, his piercing gaze, his fanged charming smile, his Ziosti accent.

Vossari recovered himself as he took a moment to dice some peppers. His knife skills were on-point, honed of course by his training as a Sith. He was know chef, though, and would bumble his way through the recipe, chiding himself and Karys passive-aggressively with a snide remark whenever he could.

But the lesson was, ultimately, simple. They had to work together. Just as much as Vossari had to serve Karys, Karys had to hone Vossari and bring out their latent power. The two of them would accomplish great things together. Vossari could feel it. "I think you'll find me more than capable." His amber eyes batted as they traveled up Karys's chest to meet his own golden glare. "I'm all yours to command." The last sentence was playful, almost flirtatious, lightly tinged with the suffering that had brought them together.

Now, they were forever linked, as Master and Apprentice.

/exit thread

@Apollyon