Sanctuary

[Sreeya]

Andraste quietly hummed to herself as she nonchalantly picked flowers. She did not dwell on the fact that she was in one of the most secluded chambers within the temple. It was off limits to acolytes, mainly because it was bathed in luxury. Much like Royston Spekter's extravagant room, this area was decorated with flowers, paintings and other aesthetic pleasures. This looked more like a chamber for discussions and meetings than living quarters. It had a chill hanging within the atmosphere, which clung to her skin.

She was not aware of her surroundings at the moment, simply focusing on the task at hand. She had been habitually stealing from this area, taking as many flowers as she wished. She hadn't been caught yet, though she did not exactly hide. In fact, she had a music box opened next to her from which a tragic, melodious tune resonated. She had acquired it from Royston, and had since carried it with her everywhere.

She lifted a flower to her face, inhaling deeply. She smiled at the sweet scent. She studied the details of the petals, tilting her head and drinking in every last curve and fold. She would recreate the flower by using the Force and manipulating sand. Ever since Lord Vereor had executed the trick to build a glass dome in the desert, she had been fascinated by the prospect of creating things out of sand, particularly flowers. And so, she quietly hummed, putting that flower away and reaching for another.

 

[Ser Gregor]

The music box lifted gently off the blue-green grass and floated away from Andraste, the music becoming weaker as it landed in the hand of Danith Taniir. The Sith examined the box and it’s simple design, a holo-chip integrated in to a basic speaker system. Shutting it, he placed the small box in to his jacket pocket.

“You aren’t supposed to be here,” he commented in his quiet voice. Stepping out from the cobble-stone walkway in to the courtyard that housed the garden, Danith looked at the woman, he guessed a handful of years younger than him, at the very most.

As the young woman reached for another flower Danith shook his head, flicking his wrist, causing the bunch of flowers she was plucking at to shudder and lean away from her.

“You’re harming the flowers. Pull from the roots, not from the stem.”

 

[Sreeya]

She looked up as soon as she felt the music begin to fade. She visibly tensed when he closed it and tucked it away. It was clear that there was rage building deep within her. It took her merely an instant to get angry, and another to forget what angered her. She merely grunted in response, reaching for another flower. However, to her dismay, he picked up on that as well and made it lean away from her. She opened her mouth to protest, but his words surprised her. She finally met his gaze, absentmindedly pulling the flower from the root and bringing it to her chest.

"These flowers will die anyway. Beauty only lasts for so long around here.."

She lifted the flower, admiring its petals once more.

"The very darkness..it hangs here like the stench of decay. It clings to the flowers and destroys them. The only flowers that can live are.."

She lifted up a stone flower. She had not made this, but had found it. She would not let him see her glass flowers. That was a secret she kept, and only shared with particular people.

"Similar to how we are molded. Like clay."

She grinned at him, sporting a knowing smile far beyond her years. She took a few steps away from the flowers, her eyes never leaving his. She was studying him, sensing him and comprehending him. There was a moment of silence before she spoke.

"I'd like my music box back. It means a lot to me."

 

[Ser Gregor]

“You are a dramatic one,” Danith commented, laughing as she spoke. He ignored her for the most part, bending to pluck a single sand lily from the bushel and tucking it in his lapel pocket.

“You don’t appreciate them,” he stated, looking at her in the eye. He was easily a head taller than her, especially considering his straight back. “These flowers only grow in the harshest conditions. They’ve adapted to live perfectly in the sand and heat of this retched backwater.”

He paused and looked down to the flowers, letting his hand hover above them. His eyes flashed with a momentary power as he let the taint that existed on the land wring the life from them, leaving them black and shrivelled.

“But you are right about one thing. There is a dark power here. It is exhilarating.”

He began to walk away from her, circling around the wide courtyard, examining the desert palms and rock hearts strung out along the ground.

Tapping his pocket, the slight bulge of the music box visible, he looked over to her.

“It’s very old. Teskova, isn’t it? I was never a fan of his work.”

 

[Sreeya]

She did not like this man. That much was made apparent the second he began speaking again. She did not like him because he was unfazed. There was frustration stemming from the fact that her insanity, her detachment from reality was of no concern. It was as if she were alone in the room, with a ghastly presence that nagged at her thoughts. She closed her eyes, twirling a flower between her fingers.

"Appreciate? What do you appreciate more than an insatiable thirst for power and glory? Just like the rest of us.."

She finally looked at him again. At the sight of him casually sucking the very life from a flower, she bit her lip to where the taste of blood filled her mouth. He had no right to do such a thing in front of her! Outwardly, she did not display her anger. She was standing there again, on the verge of sanity. His very presence pushed her closer to the edge. She wanted her music. She wanted the melodies and the flowers.

"You disgust me.."

She whispered the words without thinking. However, she did not retract them. She had to ponder over what made her utter the words. Did she find him disgusting? Or disgustingly fascinating? She knew she wanted to break into his mind and drink in every last bit of intoxicating knowledge, laced with a hint of arrogance. She wanted the arrogance too. She wanted to command it, own it and twist it. Just like she did with the Force. Did she find him disgusting because he was disgustingly aware of himself? She walked towards the courtyard, her eyes boring holes into the music box that was just out of reach.

"I find it soothing. It's the thinnest bit of rope that tethers me to reality. I find myself often swimming within the Force. I never know what I'm looking for, but I'm always searching. The music guides me back..or I'll forever remain lost at sea."

 

[Ser Gregor]

Danith let derisive laughter escape him. “I appreciate a great many things more than ‘power’ and ‘glory’. A good wine, an old strongbar piano, and the company of pleasant women. The Sith give me status and a means to an end. Don’t assume you know me.”

He said the last bit with a certain venom in his voice. Danith hated being compared to the sociopaths the Sith attracted as much as he hated calling Judicar his Emperor and Lord.

She was angry, it was plain as day to Danith. Andraste may have thought you showed nothing on the surface but the way she stood there, almost frozen, gave it away. Conscious absence of anger is as telling as anger itself.

He pulled the box from his pocket and flicked it open, the notes filling the courtyard with the sombre melodies of the Zabraki composer.

He held his hand out for her to take it, saying, when she did; “You know an insane man doesn’t think he’s insane. He thinks he’s the sanest man in the universe. ‘Everyone else is crazy. They can’t see it. I can see it, why can’t they?’”

 

[Sreeya]

She snatched the music box from his hand. She half expected to dive into a wrestling match over it. A scowl graced her features as he spoke. His voice, always velvety and smooth, it seeped into her ears like poison. He was a snake and he was coiling around her, crushing her. Though he maintained his distance and held a casual posture, she couldn't help but feel as if her entire body were in flames. She did not understand how a single man could infuriate her so.

"I never said I was sane. I said you are not above us. You're just as wretched as I am, striving to ascend within the bowels of squalor all around us. Where the hell are we? Where did you come from? Who abandoned you? No one chooses this."

She spat the words. She did not notice that she closed the distance between them, less than a foot of space separating them.

"You are putting on an act just like I am. At least I can own up to it. You hide behind this suave mask and claim the Sith are a means to an end. To what end? Do you have a purpose? Enlighten me, oh great one, of why you are exalted above a false sense of distorted piety."

She smiled then, lowering her gaze.

"No, you simply have another offhand casual remark to throw at me. One you've concocted while I spoke to you."

There was venom in her voice, and her Force energy circulated around her. It was reproachful, almost reaching out to him to lash at him. She wanted to punish him for making her feel like this, but she could not understand why. She let the music box bellow out its mournful tune, watching the thin figurine gently circle inside the box. Her voice was much quieter now.

"Who are you?"

 

[Ser Gregor]

’I never said I was sane.’

“My point entirely,” he said, interrupting her. He had to hide a smile as she continued, inching closer toward him in what he assumed was barely contained rage.

“You have a startlingly narrow view on life,” Danith commented, looking down at her. She was so close now she had to crane her neck to keep eye contact with him. “We’re currently on Korriban, a place I detest, and I came from my home on Bastion. Don’t assume all Sith live like slaves to the Dark Lord’s throne, it will get you killed.”

He was inching toward her, baring teeth in a half-snarl half-grin as he argued with the tiny woman.

“I do not let any overly brash Acolyte pick my brain for my private thoughts,” he growled, his velvet voice sounding more like a revolver (lol i no rite?). “Learn what you will from what I tell you, but do not expect me to indulge you any further.”

There was a finality in his voice that left no room for more outbursts from the Acolyte.

When she seemed to have calmed, in a manner of speaking, he let his own baring return to an aloof disinterest.

’Who are you?

Smiling; “That’s for me to know and for you to find out.”

Turning to leave, he let his hand fall to his side, masking the flick of his wrist that dislodges the holochip from the music box, warping the music.

 

[Sreeya]

Any contempt she felt for him melted away, as she was stricken with pure shock, when he purposely broke her music box. She said nothing, deaf to his cocky words. She was no longer angry at him, no longer curious. She simply stared at the small music box in her hand, and the tiny figurine did not spin and a silence grew within the cold chambers. She took a step back, her face clearly displaying her disbelief.

"Why...would..."

She barely choked out the words, abruptly plopping down on the ground. She did not know if he still stood at the doorway, nor did she care. She brought the music box close to her face, a single tear running down her cheek. She quietly sniffled, opening and closing the box as if expecting it to fix itself. That mournful melody never resounded again and it caused a mixture of anguish and a sense of defeat to overwhelm her. She whispered to the music box alone.

"Why are you silent.. come back.. please.."

She knew he had done it. The bastard. For no good reason. She did not have the will to chase him down and make him pay. She simply wanted to sit here and sob, repeatedly opening and closing the box. It was an odd sight, but Andraste was never known to be normal..

 

[Ser Gregor]

Danith had paused at the doorway to one of the temple interiors, watching Andraste’s composure collapse. She was powerless in that moment, all because of a little music box.

He stood there, observing her, for a few more minutes, seeing what she would do. When she simply sat there he shook his head and sighed, waving his hand and shifting the holochip back in to place. The next time she opened it the music was there.

“A lesson. The more power you place in something other than yourself the less power you have. To be a Sith, a true Sith, is to understand this and never let anything have power over you,” he explained, moving back toward Andraste.

He stopped three feet away from her, watching her passively. “My name is Danith Taniir, and if you’re going to thrive in the Sith you’re going to need my help.”

 

[Sreeya]

She gasped when the music box began to work again. For a full minute, she fully believed she had resurrected it. However, she glanced over and saw the same Marauder walk back into the room. She scowled at him, wiping her eyes quickly. It was as if she had been unaware of his presence the entire time. She sniffed quietly and rose to stand, pondering over his name. Unlike the other names she had heard, his was not ugly or overly forced. It sounded normal, fitting. She dwelt on the thought before turning away from him.

"You purposely want to make me miserable. What do you gain from helping me?"

She peered over at him curiously. She fiercely clutched onto her music box, a hint of fear in her eyes at the prospect of him breaking it irreparably. She was highly suspicious of him, but this was mainly because she could not read him.

"And wouldn't helping me go against your smug persona?"

She looked down at the flowers he had destroyed. She reached down crushed one between her fingers, letting the powdery residue cascade below.

"My name is Andraste."

 

[Ser Gregor]

“Everything I do has a purpose. Making you miserable for misery’s sake serves me in no way,” Danith explained, shaking his head. She didn’t think like a true Sith yet. If he was going to have her as a possible ally he’d have to break her old habits first.

“I help you become a better Sith, you become useful to me. I scratch your back, you scratch mine. As long as we agree to keep out of each other’s business unless asked we’ll both prosper from the deal,” he was talking business, something he knew as well as how to talk Sith.

“You only think I’m smug because you haven’t seen what I can do. Once you have, you’ll realize it’s not arrogance or smugness, it’s knowledge that I am right and I am better than most Sith you’ll encounter, and do you know why?”

He leaned down to her level and whispered in to her ear; “Because I know how to be discreet.”

 

[Sreeya]

"You haven't seen what I can do either.."

She spoke the words quietly, at no one in particular. She rose from the ground and turned to face him, as if for the first time. She drank in every last detail of his features, from the pompous grin, to the eyes, to even the hair. It made her angry, every little bit of him made her want to scream in frustration. Outwardly she displayed none of this, simply blinking at him. She looked away when he whispered into her ear, the simple action causing a chill to run down her spine.

"An opportunist.. a survivor.."

She grinned at him.

"Are you a leader, a follower or a mere bystander?"

 

[Ser Gregor]

“That’s why I don’t assume to know you,” he said when she stood up to regard him, a slight grin on his face. She couldn’t hide the chill that crept down her spine.

“I’m whatever I need to be to get what I want,” he stated, looking down at the tiny woman. “But I find I have the most control when people think I have none.”

Holding out his hands, upturned, he gave her a look as if he expected her to place her palms in his. “First thing we need to deal with is that music box, though. Give me your hands.”

 

[Sreeya]

She looked at him suspiciously, possessively clutching the music box. However, she remembered that he asked for her hands and not the music box. She dropped the box into a pocket, looking down at his hands.

"What are you doing?"

She knew he wouldn't humor her with an answer. She pondered for a moment before slowly reaching her hands out and placing them over his. To her surprise, his skin was warm, while many she had encountered appeared to give more of a deathly vibe. It was eerie, though she believed herself to be among them. She looked up at him, raising an eyebrow.

"Are we about to burst into girly hand clapping games?"

 

[Ser Gregor]

“Hardly,” Danith replied, shaking his head lightly. “I’m going to teach you a technique you can use so you won’t rely on that silly little box.”

Her hands felt worn, as if they had worked her entire life. From the frail slip of a body she seemed to possess it made little sense.

“I need you to focus on the music the box makes. Try and recall it as clearly as possible, and only focus on the music. Pretend the box never existed.” As he explained this he let a very low level of energy flow out from his hands and in to her. It was not a dark energy, as this was a simple application of the force any adept could accomplish.

He knew the piece very well, he had played it enough times on the piano. His familiarity with the piece would trigger the memories in her.

“Do you have it? Good.” The next part was the most difficult. It involved stripping the memory of every component but the piece of music and anchoring it to a specific mental trigger.

“Open your mind to me, just to the memory. Let me hear the music through you.”

 

[Sreeya]

She closed her eyes, though she was quite hesitant at first. She wanted to step back and put more distance between them. However, her curiosity was piqued by whatever he was trying to have her do. She followed his directions and let the music resound within her mind. She immediately felt at ease, the soothing melody calming her nerves. In addition to that, she felt his energy slowly pour into her. To her surprise, it wasn't negative and wasn't something she wanted to outright reject.

His next instructions were a bit more difficult. Try as she might, she simply could not isolate the melody by itself. It took her a few tries, but she finally managed it, letting it exist by itself independent of the box. When he asked her to open up to him, she hesitated. However, she had little control of the Force, and he had already established a mental connection. Bit by bit, she seeped the song into his mind, though she was unaware of whether or not it had the desired effect.

Initially, the melody slowly poured into his mind. However, Andraste abruptly lost control. In addition to the music, dark fragments of concealed memory abruptly forced their way into the channel between them. Danith would abruptly be overwhelmed with pain and glimpses of a dark, shadowy figure. It jumped from that to flowers, the smile of a Jedi, and then right back to the pain. Andraste herself was flooded with memories she had attempted to lock away. She abruptly pulled away from Danith, crying out loud. She fell to the ground across from him, shaking.

She did not say a word, hugging her knees to herself. Her eyes were wide with terror. She had almost let him see something she had kept from everyone! She was tense now, scared beyond belief. She could not bear to gaze up at him. Tears stained her face, though she had no idea when she had begun crying again. Andraste remained silent, completely jarred from the vivid memories.

 

[Ser Gregor]

The connection was stronger than it should have been. In her lack of control Andraste had opened up a deeply concealed part of her subconscious, and the fragments of intense emotions and phantom pain she had buried so deep assaulted Danith. He was unable to move or even breath as it happened, only being relieved when Andraste broke the connection by crying out.

Gripping his head in his hands Danith hissed as he fought with the memories and emotions. It a sense he was fighting his own consciousness as he struggled with his will to defeat the rogue memories. When he had wrestled them in to submission he was panting, sweat beading on his brow.

Falling back on to his ass, he looked over at Andraste’s quivering, crying form. Danith had to reassess the girl. She had gone through something absolutely terrible, and she had buried it as best she could, and he feared he may have inadvertently brought it to the surface.

“You need to forget that,” he said at length, finding his voice, although it was a bit raspy. “You need to learn how to build a wall around that part of you, Andraste, or you’ll find it’ll become a weapon against you…”

 

[Sreeya]

"You think I haven't tried that?"

She closed her eyes, wiping her face. She spoke in a barely audible whisper.

"He's..everything..."

She never spoke about him to anyone, as it was a part of her she always suppressed. Andraste looked up at Danith, surprised to find him lacking his usual cocky grin. He was just as shaken as she was, though he held himself together much better. It was alarming to realize that he knew so much about her, so many secrets she worked to guard with her life. She rose to stand again, still visibly shaking.

"I-I need some air.."

She looked at him for a moment, curiously. The words spilled out before she could stop them.

"Will you come with me?"

 

[Ser Gregor]

“You don’t have the skill or knowledge to block those memories. I don’t know anyone I’d trust who does,” Danith replied, finally settled from the disturbing nature of the memories.

“I know a bit about memory manipulation… I’ll help teach you what I know, but it won’t be perfect,” he said as he rose with her, brushing the dirt from his pants.

He didn’t comment that the air in the garden was the freshest she’d get on Korriban, instead simply nodding in the affirmative before falling in line beside her, guiding her out to a long winding staircase that led up to a cliff-face balcony.

The wind whipped at his skin and clothes when they reached the top, about 300 stories above the ground.

Leaning against the stone-carved railing Danith looked over the Valley of the Dark Lords, letting Andraste calm down. His presence, he figured, was enough to calm her for the moment.