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Emryc Thorne

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OOC: Cont'd from here.

Emryc turned to face him and Darth Asminys watched the Sith's eyes travel downward, a small smirk on his face as he watched those frosty eyes look at him. He couldn't tell what was going on behind them, but he could imagine as they flicked back up to his own.

"Strange that a title gives so much power." Asminys responded as Emryc lingered on the title, teasing him about who could order who around. He did not feel different than the hateful man who had filled his shoes before they had tacked Darth at the beginning of his name. "Somehow i don't see you bowing if I told you to get down on your knees." His nostrils flared with his eyes, a faint glimmer in them as he huffed at Ermyc's constant insolence while making an attempt to tease the man.

"I was asked to dance. Your apprenctice?" He asked as he watched Emryc smoke. He had seen the brief acknowledgment the man had given the red-head Lyra, who had stood next to him without cowering. Emryc's brow still shone with sweat as the smoke lazed around him, and Asminys wouldn't fail to say something.

"Did you enjoy your dance?" His eyes lingered on Emryc's brow before meeting the cold ones again, the simmer that boiled underneath his red-gold iris's perhaps rising a little higher.

@Sreeya


Emryc could only offer that same half grin when Asminys mentioned the refusal to kneel. He thought of quipping back a reply when he mentioned that Lyra had asked him to dance. Now this brought a true grin to Emryc, followed by what could almost qualify as a faint chuckle. He hadn’t seen it happen, but he could only imagine the meek girl asking someone like Asminys for a dance.

“She is,” He confirmed, drawing in smoke again as amusement danced in his eyes. He was pulled into focus again when Asminys spoke. His gaze didn’t meet his eyes, instead trained on the sweat that lined his brow. Emryc reached up to wipe it away, extending the gesture out to run his fingers through his sweaty hair. The hair stuck up where he did it, his entire head coated.

Silver eyes studied the simmering orbs that clearly had rage circling just beneath them. It vaguely reminded him of an ocean surface that had a shark swimming just beneath. There was that chilling realization it was there, and what it could do when it surfaced. There was no knowing if or when it would.

“Are you displeased?” Emryc asked simply, ignoring the original question entirely. It was a habit Asminys knew by now.

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Asminys

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Asminys watched Emryc's grin as he ignored his teasing statement, the same thought likely running through his mind. He noted how Emryc smiled at the bravery of his apprentice, even drew forth a small laugh at the idea of the small girl asking the Sith Lord for a dance. He seemed... proud.

Asminys watched as Emryc wiped the sheen of sweat from his forehead, slicking back his hair. The anger was still there. Perhaps he was jealous that another had made him sweat so much. The anger roiled under his eyes as he tasted its flavor, contemplated its source and direction. He could see Emryc's silver eyes studying his as he did so, those untelling orbs leaving much for the Sith lord to wonder at his thoughts.

"She was persistent." He answered the question, not the one that had been asked, but he was wise to the younger Sith's games by now. "Her presence did not displease me." He admitted. He had imagined killing her, but he pictured death with every glance at others, she had been no different.

"Or do you mean the dance?" He turned it back to what Emryc had really asked. The memory of Emryc and the pretty Sith boy dancing together, their forms pressed firmly against each other, rose unbidden to his mind. There was an anger at the image, as well as other feelings. There had been a certain beauty to their dance. A raw sensuality that spoke of a bestial battle for dominance.

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Emryc Thorne

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Emryc’s eyes narrowed just the slightest bit at his answer. Asminys knew exactly what he had asked and he purposely skirted around it. There was just the slightest streak of anger in Emryc’s eyes, a hint of gold that was so subtle it could have been the lava reflected upon the silvery surface. His fingers twitched just slightly, the urge to slam Asminys into the nearest wall suddenly creeping toward his extremities.

He exhaled instead, keeping the face stoic. Asminys turned the question back around on him, lazily threading it back. Anger coursed through the Sith so often that it became difficult to decipher his nature from the cracks in his resolve. Emryc had no grin on his face by then, and he quietly smoked the cigarra, finally breaking eye contact. He looked away and towards the open fields that the Jedi fought in.

“If you are so curious about dancing, he is still in there,” He exhaled a plume of smoke before stepping away from Asminys. If unstopped, he intended to take the steps down from the balcony and out towards the battlefield.

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Asminys watched as Emryc's eyes narrowed at his answer, the way he danced around the question. He saw the faintest glow reflected under the surface of those silver pools, faint flecks of gold appearing. He had struck a nerve and his watchful eyes caught all the little twitches and tics of anger. He felt a certain satisfaction at the display.

So thats why Emryc so enjoyed playing his games.

Of course he exhaled and remained calm, his face smoothing, grin disappearing as he fired back and walked away.

"I only know one dance," Asminys retorted, displaying a faint grin to Emryc's back at his anger. "That's what i told your apprentice. She offered to teach me a new one." He said as he followed him down the steps from the balcony, his steps in a slow pace as he lagged behind the other Sith, his walk the one of a predator lazily stalking its prey.

"You dance well, it was quite the show you put on out there." He imagined the dance again, the lead up to the embrace as the pair of Sith played out their mock combat in his mind. It was too bad that armor and cloak were so enshrouding in their embrace on Emryc.

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Emryc Thorne

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Emryc continued his stride, smoking and walking towards the ashen battlefield. He could smell the volcano, a mix of ash and sulfur. He felt the heat radiating from the grounds, but he kept walking. The night air was cool, the winds brushing aside the smoke to reveal the stars above. If Asminys walked behind him, he would pace through the intoxicating cloud of the cigarra smoke that trailed him.

In some ways Emryc was still dancing, an entirely different one with Asminys. The man sometimes posed as the cat o’nine tails he had back on his ship. He had individual barbs that sometimes dragged across the flesh of his psyche, leaving faint little marks that Emryc carried with him. His jaw tightened at the thought, smoke leaving his nostrils as he kept walking.

Asminys’ words rang through his mind, his own thoughts far from his acolyte right then. The compliment was curious to him, and it slowed his pace just slightly. It was slow enough to where Asminys would fall into step with him. Emryc kept his gaze trained ahead.

“Sounds like you were watching it rather closely,” He said icily, “I would have thought you would have been schmoozing with the Eternal to show what a good little boy you are.”

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Asminys walked through the haze of Emryc's smoke unbothered by the stench. He stepped beside the Sith as his compliment struck deep enough to slow Emryc's pace. He walked fast. The young man had grown taller than Asminys over the years and it irked him to no end.

It was Asminys turn to flare with anger as Emryc suggested that he ought to have been sucking up to the Eternal. His eye's smoldered like lava bubbling to the surface of a vast caldera, one that was always active and ready to blow without a moments notice.

"I recall you had some choice words for the Dark Lord." He spat, barely concealing the contempt in the title of their master's name. "You insult me. Besides," He glanced at Emryc with a grin as he added. "You know how bad of a boy I am." The anger's fire in his eyes receding into something else that burned just as hot.

"I was." He added after a moment's pause. "It was the most interesting thing in the room." He concluded. If he had only seen the dance it would have made what otherwise was a waste of his time worth it already to spend at the party.

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Emryc Thorne

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Emryc knew he walked on thin ice when it came to dealing with the Dark Lord. He had only gotten away with his bold statements because he came fresh off a victory and in Kravos armor to boot. It was a card he could only play once, and it was entirely worth it. He couldn’t help but grin when Asminys reminded him of his nature. A trickle went down his spine then, the same one that he had tried to quell a few times the first time Asminys broke through the barriers between them. It didn’t stop halfway through, streaking all the way down the length of his spine.

He stewed on his words for a moment, quietly walking as he looked at the volcano. Every now and then a geyser steamed near them. Emryc skirted away from the lava, sweat lining even more of his skin.

“What was your favorite part?” He asked, a baritone inflection smoothly roiling above the distant bubbling of lava, “Was it the part where I held him to me, his back pressed firmly against me?” He ashed the cigarra, “Or the part where he licked my helmet?” He took in another drag and exhaled, “Was it the part where he held me by the waist?” Another drag, another exhale, “Was it the part where we never looked away?”

Emryc ashed the cigarra again, finally tilting his head to look at Asminys. Silver eyes fully reflected the hues of the lava, making it impossible to read them, “Or perhaps you simply wanted to switch places with one of us when we were out there?”

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There it was again. He had pried that grin free from the Sith's icy shell. Victory. A short lived victory as Emryc's smooth baritone went on to ask him what his favorite part was, bringing specific instances during the dance to the front of his mind as his fist clenched. He had half a mind to grab Emryc by that antique breatplate of his and throw him into the lava.

He exhaled, breathing the anger out. Letting it wash from him as the heat of the lava flow hit and a bead of sweat formed on his forehead.

"My favorite part was the end." He said as he met Emryc's eyes, anger in his eyes but also mischief. "When you walked away, the sweat of your exertion on your brow, the heat of the dance still beating in your chest. And what did you do?" A sly grin began to form at the edge of his mouth as he continued. "You looked for me." He finished with a chuckle as he turned his gaze to admire the lava's glow.

"He wants you." He said afterwards, almost as an afterthought. It had been clear as day to him, the power play for dominance, the sensual heated dancing that made him burn with anger, the lick at the end. There was no question, and Asminys was sure that some teasing words had likely been exchanged during the dance as well.

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Emryc Thorne

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Emryc wasn’t sure if he was still playing a game or not, simply that it only had losers in it. Silver eyes were fixed on the molten lava, the fire such a serene and slow beauty compared to the burning inferno within his mind. He prided himself in being as placid as the lakes of Naboo, and yet Asminys managed to turn him into the roiling oceans of Manaan in a storm.

The Sith Lord laid out Emryc’s own actions before him and he was left wordless. Nostrils flared just a bit, but he thought about several different things. He thought about all the trouble he had gone through to obtain the armor he wore, the teachings that had turned his mind into a fortress. Asminys was only seeping in because he allowed it. Emryc hadn’t noticed that before. It had all been by his own will, by his methodical nature.

“And you followed,” He said quietly, though it wasn’t a jab as much as an impasse of sorts. Asminys knew what he had done, he knew what he was and he wasn’t ashamed of it. Emryc’s jaw tightened slightly at the casual afterthought Asminys tacked on. He sat on those simple words for a moment, analyzing them from several different angles.

“What if I want him too?” Emryc said at last, turning to look at Asminys again. He saw the sweat beginning to line his forehead, his bare skin accented by the hues from the lava. Emryc’s hand reached out to grasp at the clothing Asminys wore, wanting to drag the errant material away to fully reveal him. He hesitated, tugging away to reveal more of the shoulder, more of the tattoos. He was frozen in place then, silver eyes lowering to trail through the patterns of ink.

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"I did." Asminys admitted easily. He had seen Emryc glance his way, perhaps assumed he wanted company, and had followed him out here, all the way down to the lava flows. He had sought out the mans company of his own doing. So far he hadn't regretted it.

Emryc's question made the images of the dancing Sith that flitted through his mind change to a more private dance, less the formality of the ballroom. All skin and heat. His eyes flashed at the thought, again uncertain. Emryc seemed uncertain as well as his eyes lingered away from Asminys face, followed by his hand.

"Then take him." Asminys said as he grabbed Emryc's hand that seemed to want to do more than just disrobe him, pressing it to his tattooed chest as he stepped in closer. His own fingers hooked lightly on the ancient breastplate to pull Emryc within a breath of him, anger and desire burning in his eyes close to Emryc's own. And perhaps a hint of jealousy.

"A Sith does not ask." He said as his hand trailed up from the cuirass to let his thumb and forefinger trace up the line of Emryc's jaw. He illustrated his words then, seizing that jaw and pressing his lips against Emryc's, the heat of the lava's fire warm on the skin of their faces.

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Emryc Thorne

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In some ways Emryc envied Asminys and how self assured the man was. He willingly sinned and he never sought to repent. He had nothing to anchor him to a religion that forbade so many things. In some ways he embodied the true nature of the Sith - to be liberated. Was Emryc the one that was still chained? No, he pushed the thought from his mind. The mind that he willingly pulled things into when he pleased. He wanted Asminys in there even if it was akin to rolling in a thermal detonator.

He didn’t react as his hand was abruptly grasped and Asminys declared for him to do as he pleased with the other man. His hand was against his bare chest, feeling the faint moisture that began to gather there atop the smooth skin. He saw the Sith Lord’s eyes, the yellow hues that burned with passion and anger. Emryc couldn’t make out the jealousy within it, too buried within the inferno that ultimately protected Asminys from revealing that human side of him.

Emryc felt Asminys’ hand travel along his jaw before he was suddenly pulled in, the words of a Sith playing within his mind. He didn’t hesitate when Asminys pressed their lips together. Emryc closed his eyes, giving into the kiss and feeling an icy chill down his spine that was entirely out of place here. His free hand traveled down the side of Asminys body, dipping inside his clothing to grasp at his bare waist.

He only broke the kiss to softly murmur against his lips, “Why do we do this to one another?” Fingers began to dig into his waist, frost seeping into his eyes.

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Emryc didn't resist his advance and their lips met. Eyes closed, he enjoyed the feeling of the kiss, resisted the urge to grab Emryc by the hair on the back of his neck and kiss him more thoroughly. Instead he returned the kiss as Emryc gave it, letting him set the intensity as his hand travelled down to his hip.

The question came as somewhat of a surprise to Asminys as Emryc broke the kiss to murmur against his lips, eyes opening to reveal their icy surface had frosted over slightly. His fingers found themselves wandering over the back of the armored Sith's neck, tickling at the hair at the back of his head as he contemplated the question.

"It is in our nature, to embrace our passions." He finally said, letting his lips brush against the others as he spoke softly. That was what the Sith taught wasn't it, to embrace their desires, to take what they wanted without regret or remorse. He certainly never regretted the times he had taken Emryc. He kissed gently along Emryc's cheek, lips grazing the smooth skin there as he found Emryc's ear.

"Do you feel regretful of the sins we have shared?" He whispered once he was there, hot breath against the man's sensitive ear. Whether he would feel it against the heat of the lava was another question. Asminys found that unfulfilling and pressed his lips against the man's ear, his tongue his presence known before backing away with a gentle exhale to tickle where he had wet his earlobe. His eyes burned with wicked delight as they met Emryc's once again.

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Asminys gave such a simple explanation, and Emryc wanted to fight against it. Yet even then nothing came to mind. Emryc had walked a particular path, one that he hadn’t shaped himself. Asminys skirted around a field, stepping wherever he pleased, even if that meant walking through hot coals. He did so willingly, of his own volition. There was a soft intake of breath as Asminys traced his lips along his face and towards the sensitive ear.

The question lingered on his mind, his thoughts warped from the feel of his hot mouth and tongue just barely teasing against the ear. Emryc leaned in closer, gazing over Asminys' shoulder, his hand still grasping onto his waist. His other hand slipped from Asminys’ chest, sliding down to rest on the other side of his waist. He pulled the man close, his own lips tracing along his shoulder and over the ink.

“I will take as many lashes as it takes,” He said softly, his voice almost hoarse. Emryc stepped to the side and then back, then to the side again. He slowly moved Asminys with him to spin them around, beginning a quiet and gentle dance while his hands gripped Asminys’ waist. It was simple enough for Asminys to be guided with that simple sway, the only music the bubbling of lava and their shuddered breaths. Emryc's kisses trailed along the man’s neck, hot breath tickling against the skin, “It is a lesson I will need to be taught over and over again.”

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He felt Emryc's lips along his shoulder, tracing the ink there. He let the man pull him close into his embrace and stepped with him as he began to lead him in a slow dance. So this was dancing.

He exhaled deeply as Emryc's words carried softly to his ear, not disliking the image the words brought to mind as he pictured the scars along Emryc's back. How many of those scars now belonged to Asminys, and how many more would he cause before Emryc finally purged himself of his influence. A day he did not look forward to.

"How many lashes has it been?" He asked almost absentmindedly, curiosity in his voice as he followed Emryc's steps, his own feet moving gracefully of their own volition despite not knowing the steps. He inhaled close to Emryc's ear as he felt the man's mouth move up his neck, breathing in the scent of his earlier exertion. He was jealous that it hadn't been him working up that sweat, he decided.

"Are you ready for the next one." Asminys teased as he rolled his head slightly, giving Emryc better access to his neck there as he kissed up his ear, letting his tongue flick out to roll off the tip of it. His hands held onto Emryc's waist as the taller Sith guided their steps, and Asminys was content to let him lead for now.

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Emryc kept moving with Asminys, feeling the warmth of the man’s body against his own, though the armor posed a barrier. The Sith Lord moved with grace, light on his feet as Emryc expected from a true duelist. He savored that silence and the smell of him, the tattoo designs imprinted into his memory. He tasted his salty skin, his lips tender against him and lacking the rage that no doubt simmered beneath the surface for both men.

“Not enough,” He said in response to the question, biting down into the crook of his neck. It was the lightest price for Asminys to pay, a hint of pain that he wanted the man to feel for his transgressions. He wanted him to suffer with him, to join him in atonement and worship.

A shuddered breath escaped him as Asminys continued to tease his ear, that sensitive part that sent jolts throughout his entire body. He smiled against Asminys skin when the Sith Lord spoke next, a pained smile fraught with traces of anger.

He stepped back just slightly in the dance, grasping hold of the edge of Asminys’ robe, tugging gently up to raise his arm. He expertly spun the Sith Lord as part of the dance, both his hands working in concert to move the robe off his shoulders. In one fluid motion, the robe slid off both shoulders, spinning as Asminys did. By the end of the twirl, the robe was cast to the side. Emryc’s hands were on Asminys hips, stopping the spin as the man faced out towards the lava, his back against his chest.

He pulled the Sith Lord close, almost possessive with his grip. His fingers dug into his hips, one hand slowly sliding up his chest from behind. He never stopped that sway, their bodies firmly pressed together. Emryc gazed over Asminys’ shoulder, looking out to the fire.

“Do you enjoy seeing me in pain?” He asked, his tone more icy than passionate then.

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He was rewarded for his question with a bite, which he paid a small gasp for. A small price to pay for the answer, the admission that he wanted more, that he might always want more. Emryc guided Asminys into a spin, a twirl that left him robeless and bare chested. His robe fluttered to the hard volcanic earth to be forgotten.

"I do." Asminys answered truthfully. He did. In a way he had found the first vision of Emryc's flagellants transcendent. It wasn't the cause of the pain, but the discipline, the resolve. Emryc believed his faith. Worshipped his gods, and his gods willing, might one day become one. It was that straight and narrow path he walked, that he would suffer no deviation from.

Perhaps one day Asminys would lose him to it.

"I enjoy seeing you make yourself." He followed up with as he turned his head toward's Emryc's face, one hand reaching out to turn it towards him, the other meeting the hand digging into his hip and lacing his fingers through it. "You have chosen your path. You have crafted yourself in the image of your Gods. You are an artist, and the strokes of your brush have created something beautiful." He whispered against Emryc's lips as they danced.

It was a cruel beauty. A beauty perhaps only a man as twisted and cruel as Asminys might see. But his eyes saw a masterpiece reflected in those cold silver pools.

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Emryc listened to his words, and his jaw tightened. Asminys would feel it as such when he reached to touch his face. He felt their fingers entwining and still that ice washed over him. He remained silent for a moment, the gentle sway slowly coming to a close. He looked away from Asminys again after their lips brushed, his mind slowly building up those barriers again. Brick by brick, row by row.

He slowly eased himself from the Sith Lord’s grip, stepping back and taking a few steps away.

“It is a canvas painted with my blood,” Emryc said, venom in his tone as he turned to look at Asminys, “It is sacrifice. Something you have no true understanding of. What is your burden to carry? What is your shame to bear? What is your sacrifice? Where does your devotion lie except to your petty self?”

Silver eyes had returned to their uncaring nature. Emryc was once again the distant man that strode into the halls wearing the Kravos armor, his face as impassive as the helmet that hid it before.

“Perhaps some beauties are made to be admired from afar,” He said curtly.

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His words fell on hardening ears. Asminys could feel the tension in his jaw as he touched it, the ice in his eyes as he looked away. Emryc's barriers rose and Asminys knew he was not pleased with the words that he had spoken.

Asminys let him step away, turned to stand at a profile to Emryc as he looked at him, listening to his words. He whined of sacrifice, bemoaned of the agony he experienced to paint his bloody canvas. Anger boiled to the surface of Asminys' eyes as his blood took on the venom of Emryc's word.

He exhaled.

"Do you think you bear the monopoly on sacrifice?" He said quietly. He shook slightly, his anger kept tight under a lid. "You are not the only one who has been forged into what they are. To be taken and molded by an artful hand. To make sacrifices, carry burdens, bear shame and so much more." He shook his head, eyes clouded with firey brimstone. Their heat burned of rage but also pain.

"You are cold and beautiful Emryc, a selfish man. You do not care what sacrifices I have made or where my devotions lie." His eyes flared as he spoke. "But such is your beauty, that you would never even think to ask." He shouldn't have been shocked, that Emryc would react so strongly to his words. But perhaps he had misjudged the icy man's frozen heart.

Or perhaps the depth of the pool underneath.

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Emryc expected Asminys to lash out at him. He expected the man to draw his saber. He expected the Force to coil around him. He had seen Asminys see red and tap into his rage countless times. He could feel it just teetering on the edge. Emryc knew how this would play out, his fingers brushing near the saber hilt on his hip.

What came next felt like a punch to the gut. No, it felt like a punch that went beyond flesh and tore through his insides and out his back. Emryc’s frosty gaze faltered then, his face softening. Eyes widened slightly, lips parted. There was genuine shock from the words that came from Asminys. There was rage, but there was weight to the words. There was truth to the words. The words cut deeper than his whip ever did. They were daggers that carved through him, through every layer he had in him.

Emryc had never asked.

He never wondered. He never wanted to know. He never cared to know. He did not know about the Cadre. He did not know about where Asminys came from, what drove him, what made him happy, what made him sad. None of that ever mattered to Emryc. He felt sick as he slowly looked away, wanting so many human emotions from Asminys while he never offered even a sliver of it.

He never asked his apprentice her name. He never asked her story. Two years he spent with her. He never asked Renfry’s name till she forced it. She spent every waking moment with him, possibly even loved him. He did not care to ask where she came from, who she was before, who she was now. He had treated Asminys the same. The man that he desired so much. The man he demanded so much from. And he had treated him as yet another source of amusement. One to extract what he wished without investing himself. And Asminys stood by him through it, accepted him through it.

Emryc took one step back and then another, hands shaking slightly. He exhaled as he looked down at his own hands.

“I…” His voice almost cracked as he spoke, “I…” He exhaled again, shaking his head, “I...I don’t know how… Asminys…” His eyes were still wide as he looked down, “I...I don’t know how…”


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Asminys felt the conflict begin to roil off of Emryc as he seemed to realize the truth of his words. He had seen Emryc's hand graze the hit of his saber. He wondered if Emryc thought so little of him, that he would lash out at a moment not of his choosing. Asminys knew his rage, knew his hate inside and out. He lived with it every moment of every day and was as intimate with his knowledge in it as one might be a close lover.

The kind of lover that Emryc never cared for.

Because Emryc never cared.

Asminys watched as Emryc stepped back and looked down at his shaking hands. The shock of this realization sounded in his voice as he cracked out a sentence. Asminys smiled a wry smile as he watched this. In a way he had just gotten to see Emryc inflict pain on himself, but it gave him no joy. He hadn't been sure, had thought that perhaps Emryc had forged himself not to care, not that he was incapable of caring. That small sliver crack of hope froze over, the ice encasing him completely.

"You don't know how to care." Asminys finished for him. He almost mourned for the man, but he couldn't deny the beauty of Emryc's work, to forge himself into an uncaring statue to his idols. He imagined the Sith of old that he worshiped were just as uncaring and selfish as he was. Their ancient code had forged his own mind into the monster he knew he was as he had suffered endlessly in ways that Emryc likely couldn't even imagine, its words his only anchor.

Or maybe he could, he was pretty twisted.

@Sreeya
 
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