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Emryc Thorne

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Emryc had broken away from the group, lost inside his own thoughts. He questioned everything. He questioned whether his thoughts were his own. He questioned whether his devotion was good enough for his gods. He wondered if they could sense his weakness through the Force. The Grandmaster’s infiltration into his mind had undone so much, had struck a blow that left him reeling and questioning himself.

He had maintained his composure as he left the temple through a side passage, not looking back or joining the others. His purposeful and measured steps took him past the courtyard where they got more sluggish. He hunched over, blood dripping down to the grass below. He didn’t feel powerful enough to wear the mask, releasing a shuddered breath as trembling fingers came up to slip it off.

There was nothing but a serene silence here save for his labored breaths. The sickness loomed within him, though he fought against it. The holocron weighed heavily on him, taxing him even now with its pure energy. It wanted to reject him and his very existence.

His clothing stuck to his body from where his back was steeped in blood. Emryc didn’t have purpose in where he was going and no sense of direction. He felt the raw agony in his mind, bleeding out from where a knife had been plunged.

“Find the one thing you were denied all your life,” The Jedi’s insufferable words echoed in his mind.

Emryc dropped to his knees, looking down at the grass. His fingers curled into the dirt, rage whirling within him.
 

Asminys

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Asminys had watched the ritual that sullied the temple of the Jedi with the specter of the Darkside with interest, but it was hard for him to focus on it, or anything really. Echoes of his memories from the Cadre kept flashing before his eyes, hatred towards the painful memories crawled under his skin. He had left the temple to find solitude, to meditate. Or maybe just to hack at trees or something until he felt a little better.

His step felt heavy as he walked, the lightsaber of the Ithorian, Oota Boan, that rode his hip felt like a weight that wanted nothing to do with him. So unlike the featherlight thing that he carried and fought with. It's very presence felt jarring to his soul, or what was left of the withered husk that the Grandmaster's attack had laid bare.

His eyes darted between the shadows of the trees, the beast that normally lay caged and confined lingering just under the surface of his conscious mind. He mentally cursed the Grandmaster for undoing what he had worked so hard to create, the cage that kept his rage and hatred in check had shattered like glass, brittle to the power of the light even as it kept the darkness within contained.

That cage was gone now.

Now there was only the Darkness.

He stopped as his eyes settled on a figure kneeling in the grass. Emryc. The man who had led the attack on the Temple. The man he had shared a single passionate and sinful night with that had left him with more questions than answers. A man who absolutely infuriated him in many ways.

He should have killed him when he had the chance all that time ago.

He could feel the darkness whirling within the Sith, even as it radiated from himself. It seemed they both carried wounds from the assault, both suffered their own anguishes. His eyes settled on the back of Emryc's robe, slick and sticking to his back. The scent of iron was unmistakable. He was bleeding.

Asminys said nothing. He stood there quietly, his breathing heavy with the hatred that pulsed from him with every heartbeat. He did not trust himself to speak, did not trust that it would not come out as a roar of rage. His mind felt like a nerve. uncovered, raw, aching with agony at the slightest touch. Yet still he felt compelled to say something, anything.

"Emryc." He finally whispered, his voice quiet and hoarse. Maybe he wouldn't hear him. Maybe he would prefer if he didnt.

A splash hit his cheek, and then another plopped off his bald head.

It had begun to rain.

@Sreeya
 

Emryc Thorne

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Emryc wanted to be alone. And if he couldn’t be alone, he could tolerate certain people around him. However, the very last person he wanted to be here was the one standing near him. He bristled as he heard Asminys speak, fingernails digging into the dirt as anger poured over him like a wave of ice water. He wanted to lash out at him and end him right there.

He despised Asminys.

He hated that the man had lingered on his mind. He hated that seeing the man attacked had caused him to throw caution to the wind. He hated that he had a moment of weakness because of someone else. He hated that Asminys stood there and he was broken and weak on the ground. He hated that all his scars had opened up again.

What did that mean? Was he free to sin again since he had been undone? Could he fall into Asminys, sink into him and give himself over? Could he allow himself that because he was back to the beginning? Because everything had been cut open all over again? There was no hiding the whirlwind of thoughts that went through him, his emotions in flux and turmoil raging within his mind.

Emryc exhaled quietly as the first drops of rain splattered on him. He hated hearing his name on Asminys’ lips, and he hated that he couldn’t explain why. Emryc had to pick up the pieces of his armor and put it back together piece by piece.

He slowly rose to stand, gritting his teeth through the pain from his muscles contracting and stretching the open wounds. He reached up to move his wet hair from his forehead, gaze fixed ahead, “Why aren’t you with the others?”


@Arclight
 

Asminys

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Asminys could feel the rage curling around Emryc, the hatred that plucked at his heart, singing a song of rage that echoed in the wind that had begun to blow. Emryc was a whirlwind of emotion. Asminys knew if he could see his eyes that the icy pools would not be frozen over as they usually were. That there was a storm brewing, a storm unlike the one that had held him captive that night. A tumultuous storm of icy rage that could perhaps match the inferno of hatred that Asminys bore in his heart.

Asminys couldn't be sure of where Emryc's hatred lay, who it belonged to. But he could guess.

So thats how it was.

He watched as Emryc stood slowly, his every movement filled with pain. The younger Sith was clothed but Asminys could feel how naked his mind was in this moment, he radiated pain with his every movement. Something had happened during the fight with the Grandmaster. Something had undone him similar to how he had been undone.

A small part of him quivered with hope, that human part that lay shriveled, naked and bare to the world in this moment. But the beast towered over that husk of a thing that shivered on the ground, the beast unchained and bleeding. They both bore their scars, and their scars both bled.

They bled profusely.

"What others." His words came out molten. Slow and burning with hate. The others did not matter now, in this moment. In this moment there was only them.

"Why did you leave?" He asked probingly. It wasn't his place to ask such questions, but he never knew nor cared where his place was. His place was wherever he wanted to be. Whatever he wanted to do. He had wanted to be alone, to be away from the others. But now, he wanted to be here.

@Sreeya
 

Emryc Thorne

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Silence hung between them for a long moment as Emryc looked down at the ground. The rain slid down his forehead, down the bridge of his nose and pooled at his feet. He felt the gentle patters against his back, even such a subtle pressure inciting stinging pain. Asminys spoke and Emryc could hear the anger in his words. For all the emotions Emryc worked to temper, anger often found ways to sneak away just barely out of his grasp. It was no different for Asminys.

Emryc slowly turned to face the older Sith, meeting the golden gaze with his frosty silver. His religion was with him and had abandoned him all at once. There was an exhaustion in him that pushed him to the brink of collapse. It took all his strength to remain standing, and he thought of the years he had spent fashioning himself into the perfect warrior. He had been so detached that he could be the envy of Jedi. He could watch the galaxy change and move around him, could watch the rise and fall of kingdoms and he would remain unwavering. He could remove himself from it, he could be on the outside looking in.

Today he was within that cage himself, not the person from the outside looking in. He had been grabbed by the throat and dragged down to the same plane as others by Oota’s actions. He had been forced off his path, he had been kicked off his trajectory and it was unclear how to get back on or if he ever could.

Emryc didn’t answer Asminys’ question, but there was bitterness when he spoke, “You came here because this is what you wanted to see,” He spat at him, “To see me unhinged. To finally see the cracks in my armor. To see me laid bare and weakened enough to destroy. To see me no differently than you would a Cadre sibling strung up to hang,” Fire burned in his eyes that normally expressed an icy serenity, “You have wanted to strike me down. You have me now where you’ve wanted,” He extended his hands out, scoffing, “Here I am, Asminys. It’s about time you atone.”

@Arclight
 

Asminys

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Emryc turned to face Asminys, and he could tell the man was exhausted. The fight had drained both of them to their core. Their eyes met and he could see the frost in his eyes, no longer a shining frozen pool. They rippled and spoke with emotion, even burned with anger as he spoke and spread his arms wide, told Asminys to strike him down as he had wanted to so many times before.

He was wrong. That was not why he had come.

Asminys looked Emryc up and down as he extended his hands out and begged for the blade. To free him from his torment. To release him from his sins that had come unwound. Asminys looked at him with hate in his eyes. He hated the man before him, as he hated everything and everyone. But he did not want him dead now. No, he wanted him to suffer in torment as he suffered. To feel the pain and agony of his every misdeed as he did. To hear the screams and cries of every soul who he had given the gift of death to, the freedom from this life that ground everything to dust under its ever stepping heel.

Death would be too sweet a release.

He deserved the torment of life.

snap-hiss

His blade ignited in his hand before he even thought to draw it, its tip hovering just shy of Emryc's chest. He did not move to strike. Merely let it hover there for a moment before twitching his wrist. The blade might burn his flesh the barest amount at his collar, but Asminys' grip was true to his intentions and Emryc would smell the cloying scent of burnt cloth as his robe fell to the damp earth.

"I did not come here to see you sniveling and crying, begging for death." He growled as the cloak fell. The blade disappeared as Asminys stepped forward to grab Emryc by the collar of his shirt. "Death is too sweet a mercy for the likes of you." He snarled in his face as he pulled them together, his eyes staring into Emryc's, the inferno of hatred burning so hot that it threatened to consume everything.

He wanted to kill him. His mind screamed at him to strike him down, take his life and be done with it here and now. To put an end to the regret he felt every time he laid eyes on him. The regret that he felt that he had not taken the Sith's life when he had the chance.

His mind screamed at him to take Emryc's life.

To save himself.

 

Emryc Thorne

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Emryc didn’t flinch as Asminys drew his saber, the telltale hum resounding louder than ever. His gaze remained locked with the man’s, his chest rising and falling with steady and calm breaths. Having a saber against him was a measure of comfort against the assault that tore through his mind. His mind hadn’t been his own, and it left him reeling. It would take him a long time to recover, but he knew he would. He knew he would come out stronger in the end. He knew he would come out more guarded in the end. He would ensure that his mind could never be penetrated again and that anyone that tried would die in the attempt.

Asminys had the chance to ensure none of that ever happened. To ensure that Emryc did not continue to become a dangerous force in the galaxy, a cancer that would rapidly grow and spread. He had the chance to alter the course of the events that would follow, the events that would shape the lives of millions, that would end the lives of millions. He had the power to extinguish the flame that was still so small, before it would become a fire, before it would become an inferno, before it would consume worlds, before it would devastate and destroy everything in its path.

It began with the burn that turned his skin red, that threatened to dig into his flesh. It seared through his cloak and he felt the weight of it shift as it fell by his feet. Through it all, Emryc did not shift his gaze, his face stony and fixed as if he were a sentry. He could feel Asminys and his rage whirling at him, and how it took every fiber of his being to hold back from driving the saber through.

In the end, the saber disappeared and Asminys pulled him in. Emryc could see the anger clear on his face, could feel that familiar lack of distance between them. Death would have been a mercy. It would spare him from the countless times he would break and reforge himself. His back ached from the open wounds, and he continued to bleed. The rain diluted it, carrying his blood down his arms and coating his entire body.

Emryc’s eyes softened as he looked at Asminys. He dropped the mask he held in his hand, reaching both trembling hands up to slowly cup the man’s face, his own blood streaking Asminys’ skin. He looked into his eyes, speaking barely above a whisper, “You have me where you’ve wanted…” He repeated his earlier words, barely audible above the rain. It was the faintest sliver of humanity that clawed and fought to the surface, facing Asminys for this single moment. A moment that was so fragile that it could shatter from the lightest pressure, a moment that would likely never emerge again.

@Arclight
 

Asminys

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Emryc did not fight his pull, had not raised a hand to stop his saber from disrobing him. Asminys could have killed him with a finality that perhaps might have saved the galaxy much torment and destruction, or perhaps himself. He could have killed him and saved Emryc a lifetime of suffering that he would no doubt live to experience and deliver.

They deserved it. He deserved it.

Emryc's eyes softened as they held his gaze. Asminys almost turned away from the look, but was locked into it by the trembling hands that cupped his jaw. The rain poured, leaving streaks of water running down Emryc's face, messing his hair and nearly concealing the whisper, the same words he had spoken moments before. They spoke to a different part of him, to the shriveled husk of a heart that still beat within his chest.

He wanted to run, to cast Emryc aside. To leave him there, vulnerable and broken to be reforged into a weapon that would strike a blow to the very heart of life itself.

But he couldn't tear himself from those eyes.

The lightsaber fell from his hand, landing silently in the grass below. He brought it up to gently cup the hand that touched his own face, his grip on Emryc's collar softening. His hand shook slightly as his mind whirled, a battle being fought inside as the beast and the man fought for control of the being.

He wanted to look down at his lips. He wanted to close his eyes and kiss him. He wanted to do so many things. But he dare not look away from those now softened eyes, lest he lose the battle that raged within his heart.

Instead he leaned forward. He touched his forehead to Emryc's and brought his other hand up to brush across his cheek, behind his ear, through his wet hair. Just like the time before.

"Right where... I've wanted you." His voice quavered as he tried not to lose the fight. His eyes swirled with conflict as his humanity reared its head, starved of oxygen and gasping for the air that Emryc now offered.

@Sreeya
 

Emryc Thorne

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In some ways, Oota had won. Emryc knew it in the back of his mind then. The Grandmaster had known. It would have caused rage in any other moment, but it didn’t now. He was okay with Oota having the upper hand, okay with the Jedi having the final say. The skies above had been bright, the sun kissed grass felt warm under his fingers, and the crystal clear streams sounded so perfectly gentle. He wanted to revisit that place without care, without thought. He wanted to treat the day as his last in the galaxy, and he wanted to undo all the armor he had built up. It had been unraveled in the temple, and a part of him that had been locked away gasped for air once more.

Asminys couldn’t look away and neither could he, fire and ice clashing amidst the storm that raged around them. Emryc felt him lean forward and touch their foreheads as he had done on his ship. Emryc had felt so confident back then, he had control of the situation. That was when control mattered so much, but in this moment it didn’t even grace his thoughts.

All he saw was the man before him. All he felt was the touch of his head and his warm skin. All he heard was the sound of rain and the soft words spoken. It didn’t matter that Ajan Kloss burned a distance away. It didn’t matter that they had slain the Grandmaster. It didn’t matter that they had left devastation in their wake. All that mattered was here and now, even away from their own brethren.

Emryc closed his eyes and leaned in this time, shedding away several more cloaks to follow what Asminys had started. He captured Asminys’ mouth with his own, tenderly kissing the man’s rain soaked lips. He was unapologetic, letting Asminys know that this had weight for him, that this had meaning for him. He didn’t put up any angry fronts, he set aside the ego, he cast aside his desire for control. He was stripped of his countless barriers, allowing Asminys in for just this moment as he kissed him deeply, disarming him as he had done to Emryc.

He didn’t stop there this time, breaking from the kiss only to push closer into him. Emryc’s hands slipped down from Asminys’ face to slide wrap around his body. He gave himself over, pressing himself against the man to hold him and bury his face into the crook of his neck. He held Asminys as if he never wanted to let go, as if he were afraid of it, as if he were desperately clinging to a sliver of something that was so fleeting. But for now it was here. For now it was captured. For now it was a small flame that couldn’t be extinguished, however tiny and weak it may have been.

@Arclight
 

Asminys

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In the end, Asminys didn't have to close his eyes. It was Emryc who closed his, the storm disappearing from sight as he leaned in. The rain fell on them as they kissed, and Asminys met Emryc's lips with a desperation, as if his soul was dying of thirst and Emryc's lips were the sweetest water it had ever tasted. This kiss wasn't like that first kiss though, there was no competition, no dominance.

They met as equals, as two starving men who had just found a feast for the spirit in the famine of their hollow lives.

It was over far too soon, their lips parted as Emryc embraced him. Asminys breathed, finally, as his heart found air. His hand left Emryc's collar as they embraced, travelling down his chest to slide around his waist. To hold him where his flesh was bare of bleeding scars.

His hand travelled through Emryc's hair as he nestled into his neck, holding him there in his embrace. He could feel Emryc's heart beating through his chest, and his own beat in sync with the man's as he let his own head fall to rest upon Emryc's shoulder. The small flame in his heart wavered and shook, coming to life as oxygen finally found its flame in the shelter of their embrace. A small, flickering warmth filled his heart, utterly foreign as its heat glowed however small in the rain.

He exhaled.

A breath that left with all his doubts. All his fears. All his pain. If only for a moment, the shriveled heart of the man inside beat gently. A single short-lived tear formed at the corner of his eye as they clenched shut, as he truly felt something, before being swept away by the rain. The hatred fled from him for a moment, and in its absence he could only guess at what this was he might be feeling in his chest.

It was real.

It was special.

It was human.

For once in his life, in this moment... He was human.

@Sreeya
 
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