Ask The Err's of Pirates

[Asminys]

Asminys wasn't deep in meditation, nor was it a peaceful one. He felt chained to the decision he had made, to let the younger Sith live. In his minds eye his arms were bound up and away into the blackness of the night, tight chains of thorns wrapped them and prevented him from fully achieving submersion in the boiling sea of rage that dwelled within him.

He could feel Emryc stir from his slumber. His earlier choice with which he still grappled was now utmost in its finality. Perhaps he could overwhelm the injured Sith and take his life still, but his mind strayed from thoughts of murder to another form of taking.

"Yes." He responded simply, eyes still closed as the younger Sith as blurted out his accusation. The confusion in his voice was evident. Understandably so, Asminys was certain that if their positions were traded, he would almost certainly be dead, or at the very least left for it.

"No." He responded again, still maintaining his unfulfilling meditation as the mental chains hauled him up further from what he sought. There was no helping it. He had made a choice and now he could only hope he hadn't chose wrong.

"I don't need you." He answered, once more a simple confirmation of what the Sith already knew. He didn't need the younger Sith, he could have left him for dead or killed him and found his own way off the planet. And then he asked the question this had all been leading to, the question that Asminys had been meditating on and struggled to find an answer for. He knew the answer of course. He had felt it ever since he had seen the younger Sith's scars laid bare, shuddering under the stroke of the whip as blood and sweat dripped down his naked flesh.

"Because I desire you." He opened his eyes and fixing his golden gaze on the younger Sith's silver. He could see the rage burning in the younger Sith's eyes and Emryc would see it mirrored in the red-gold iris' of Aminys. A rage that burned so hot that it would consume the entire galaxy if it was only given the chance. A rage that would laugh as it slaughtered entire systems, only to be unfulfilled. A rage that would burn and burn until it left nothing but a husk. But beneath that, passion and desire that had smoldered since the day he had laid eyes on Emryc's devotion to the darkness that they both served.

 

[Emryc Thorne]

Emryc heard every word, noting the curt responses Asminys was giving. He was certainly not drunk anymore, that much was clear. He met the man’s gaze when he opened his eyes, the golden hues even more vibrant when accented by the fire. After his last words, silence hung between the two men. The pirate heard it too, and he thought better than to speak now, trying to pretend he was dead.

Emryc held the older Sith’s gaze for a bit longer, his face impassive at hearing the words. He sat up straighter and leaned into the boulder behind him. He thought about the words for a moment, analyzing and weighing them. He arrived at the conclusion that perhaps this didn’t meet the criteria for punishing himself. He was methodical in every aspect of his thinking when it came to his principles.

“Then you do need me,” He said flatly, reaching into his pocket to draw out a cigarra. He had picked up the habit to combat the pain from his back. Now it would serve to quell the pain in his leg. He drew in deeply, closing his eyes and exhaling the plume of smoke, “What’re you going to do about this problem of yours?”

His Force signature was as impassive as his face, betraying nothing. He did not wear his passions on his sleeve, and he seldom displayed or indulged emotions. After that initial exhale of smoke and the slight buzz, he opened his eyes again and lazily tilted his head to regard Asminys. The man wouldn't know where he stood with Emryc, and he wouldn't know how Emryc truly judged the admission or how they aligned with his creed.

 

[Asminys]

The younger Sith held his gaze and he let him, watching his eyes for any hint of a reaction. There was none. He was cold, calculating, and that was all that Asminys could see was the weighing of scales in the young Sith's head, similar to how he had weighed the man's life earlier.

He finally responded. His voice was flat and it betrayed nothing of his thoughts. His words spoke some measure of them though, his focus on need. Desire and need, two different things perhaps but he supposed they were similar. Asminys did feel a spur of anger at the lack of any qualitative response even though he knew the Sith owed him nothing. Nothing but his wretched life.

He should have killed him when he had the chance.

"Should I treat this as a problem?" He asked as he stood, salt crunching under his boots as he slowly walking over to the injured Sith. He stood over him, looking down on his pretty face. "You have seen how I handle problems." His voice was cold as he spoke, a threat that lingered in the air

He squatted down, glancing at the Sith's injured leg before once more meeting Emryc's cold gaze. He plucked the cigarra from his lips and examined it, sniffing the leaf binding that held the smoking thing together. Flicking it back to Emryc so that he would be forced to catch it or have it burn his robes, he waited until the Sith's hands were in motion to catch it.

And then he slapped him.

Without warning of his intentions or thoughts he slapped him. No gentle tap either, this was a full bodied slap that would echo through the canyon and leave his cheek crimson. "For earlier." He chuckled as he stood and walked back to where he had been sitting. He was well aware that the Sith might lunge at his back and he was ready for it if it happened.

 

[Emryc Thorne]

Emryc heard the words and amusement glinted in his eyes. He watched as Asminys walked over and crouched in front of him. He watched Asminys shift his gaze towards the injury on his leg and his own gaze didn’t shift. He continued to look towards where Asminys would look when he glanced up again.

The cigarra was plucked from his lips and Emryc didn’t react, his eyes watching the man’s every move. Within a moment, the cigarra was flying back at him. He extended his right hand to snatch it out of the air, shifting focus for just a moment.

The slap found purchase, whipping his head clear to the side. It echoed through the silence of the night, and it was enough to even make the pirate wince. Stinging pain burned in his cheek, which now glowed red.

Emryc didn’t react immediately, even when Asminys had walked off. It took a few seconds, but the younger Sith slowly turned to look back up at the other. The redness was still on his face. He calmly stared at him, the faint glint of amusement in his eyes. One of the most infuriating things about Emryc was that he didn’t have immediate reactions. Everything was measured and calculated, even in the face of abrupt hostility.

“And did you handle it?” He asked quietly, bringing the still burning cigarra that he caught earlier up between his lips, “Do you want me any less now? Are you going to be able to go to sleep tonight without thinking of how badly you want to taste me? Without questioning your choices and the burden you carry?”

Emryc blew out a cloud of cigarra smoke and slowly grinned at him. That same lopsided grin.

 

[Asminys]

The slap had been satisfying. He could still hear the faintest of echoes reverberating back through the canyon. He reached his seat by the fire by the time Emryc responded.

Turning his head to look at him over his shoulder, he caught a flickering of something in the younger Sith's cold eyes. Amusement. The slap was bright red and throbbing on his cheek, but the words he spoke robbed it of all satisfaction. He blew a cloud of smoke causally, his soft lips turning up into an amused lopsided grin that matched his eyes as they seemed to mock everything they graced with their presence.

That smile.

It all started with that damn smile.

And the slap had done nothing to wipe it off his face.

He should have killed him.

HIs eyes would flash of rage for a split second. The instinct to pounce soared in his chest for a moment before he willed it away. He relaxed the fingers of his right hand, releasing them from the clawed strike that they wished to tear though the younger Sith's face with.

"Who said you're getting any sleep tonight?" He said back, lip turning up into a smirk. He tried to keep his voice neutral, but it grew huskier as the rage passed and the words struck a chord. The cold calculating eyes and cocky grin. Emryc was teasing him, he was sure of it. Or maybe he just wished it.

 

[Emryc Thorne]

Emryc could see an entire story play out before him. It was only visible through the windows that were Asminys’ eyes. The younger Sith kept his cool and collected resolve as he felt that slight surge in the Force, and he knew rage spiked there. Emryc was all too familiar with the feeling, and seeing it displayed it in Asminys sent a stirring through him that he had to actively choose to ignore.

It was enticing to watch. The flames accented the contours of his chiseled frame, and Emryc could drink in every inked line on his body. He could make out the faintest twitch of every muscle as Asminys fought so hard to restrain himself. The sting of the slap still lingered, and it was almost a welcome pain for the sins being committed within his mind right then.

Frustratingly, none of it displayed on his face. It was a simple and curious stare that Asminys received from Emryc. He kept sitting there puffing on his cigarra, now progressing to casually blowing smoke rings. It was in direct contradiction to the personal battle Asminys faced.

His question was a surprise to Emryc, though he measured his reaction. Everything was calculated and paced for him. The grin didn’t disappear, but there was a glint in his eye to accompany it.

“Might just be my problem for tonight,” He said quietly as he drew in from the cigarra. He blew out through his nostrils, “Are you going to handle it?”

 

[Asminys]

There was no change in the grin the younger Sith bore on his face, though Asminys thought he saw a small glint appear in Emryc's eye. His words were spoken so casually that Asminys didn't know if they were posed as an invitation or as a threat.

He wasn't sure if he wanted to test it.

He wanted to wipe that grin from the young Sith's face. To grab him by the face and force it from his lips with his own. To take his frustrations out on the younger Sith's pretty face. To make it his problem. His eyes spoke of the whirlwind of desire that occupied his mind as he pictured exactly what he would do to the man.

Instead of acting on those thoughts however he turned his attention to the pirate who had borne uncomfortable witness to the tension between the two even as he stewed in his own fear. The pirate shouted out in alarm as he rose from the ground, his voice rising as he floated over to stand before Asminys.

"Can you walk?" He asked, turning his head back to Emryc as he grabbed the pirate by the collar. Throwing the pirate to roll at Emryc's feet he continued. "We have a long way to travel tonight, if not, i saved you a walking stick."

 

[Emryc Thorne]

Emryc continued to watch Asminys and his reactions raging beneath the surface. He could see the constant battle and the emotions that clawed at him. It was that pesky humanity in him, the thing that so many Sith carried around like a cancer. It poisoned them from the inside and it killed them slowly, and they went so long before they ever knew they had it. He had caught his early, and he hoped to eradicate it for good.

The smoke flowed from his lips for a few more puffs until the prisoner was tossed at him. Emryc could tell that Asminys was in a rush to put his head elsewhere. The internal battle had been a delicious drama to watch unfold before him and now Asminys wanted to take it away.

“I can,” He answered quietly, “Better put on another layer of wrapping to stabilize the leg,” Emryc said matter of factly. He casually took his shirt off then, not having anything else to work with. He tightly fastened it around his leg. He glanced up at Asminys with the subtlest amused look, “I’ll lead the way.”

He spun and began to walk, using the Force to yank the pirate up to his feet. A nudge from the back was all it took to make him start to walk, “Take us to your base,” He drawled quietly, “And yes, we can tell if you’re kriffing with us.”

The duo began to walk then. Asminys was left to walk behind them. Left with his thoughts and staring at Emryc’s completely tattered back.

 

[Asminys]

He watched silently as Emryc stripped his shirt off, drinking in the younger Sith's bare chest as he wrapped his injured leg. He burned at the realization that Emryc had taken command of the situation once again, forcing him to take up the rear guard as they walked, his gaze constantly drawn to the mosaic on the younger Sith's back.

He should have killed him when he had the chance.

The walk was long. Achingly long. His longing only increased as they walked quietly over the salt flats of Crait. Asminys wondered if, no, knew that Emryc was toying with him. He wondered if he had underestimated the Sith who he had first viewed through a lens of disgust, who he had first viewed as weak. He had been wrong.

Emryc was strong.

He had glimpsed into those cold silver eyes and seen nothing behind them. For all their beauty, they were as empty as the flatlands that surrounded them. Every word weighed, every action balanced. Even as he walked he knew that this was intentional, that he had been played.

Yet he could not help but have eyes for the young Sith. Even as he looked at Asminys with that damned smile that seemed to say 'you amuse me', Asminys couldn't help the feeling of desire that burned in his chest at that smile. The cold eyes that weighed him and decided that he was not weak, a tolerable companion for the battle ahead, were pools of silver that drew at the older Sith's heart. Beckoning. Demanding that he take the dive.

He should have killed him when he had the chance.

By the time they had reached the pirate base Asminys was wound up in a new fury at the realization that he had been treated as so much entertainment. That he had been taken for a fool. The blasted open gate of the pirate hangar was old, the trenches that surrounded it were scarred by battles fought long ago, and the plain that led to it was pocked with the occasional wreckage, long salvaged beyond holding any value.

And inside, Asminys knew there were pirates. Pirates who he intended to take out every last drop of his fury, because he knew that there would be no satisfying his desires. Not today.

 

[Emryc Thorne]

Emryc kept walking in silence the entire time. The pirate softly muttered to himself in what Emryc thought was a prayer as he walked. He could sense the whirlwind of emotions within Asminys. He could tell the man was doing his best to cover it up, but some things were difficult to hide. Emryc had that grin again, but this time the other Sith was mercifully spared.

He made a show of casually running his fingers through his hair and occasionally yawning and stretching out his arms and cracking his shoulder blades. They were all innocent gestures anyone walking for a while would make, but his deliberate nature was his subconscious now. He didn’t engage Asminys in conversation, didn’t challenge him, didn’t jab at him. He did it all without a single word. His mind was delightfully elsewhere, focused on the base they would happen upon.

Once they finally did, he sized it up, sensing the Force near it in a strange way. It was as if a rotten stench had permeated from a long time ago, and it lingered just vaguely. He grimaced slightly as he kept walking, turning to the pirate.

“You’ve been very helpful,” Emryc declared, “Go run along now,” He said as he watched the pirate scurry off. He turned to look at Asminys then.

“We wipe this place quick enough to catch up with that kriff by the time he gets into a ship to take off,” He dropped the challenge, a glint in his eye as the bloodlust began to take over. He made a game of it where Asminys was driven by rage. They had polar opposite approaches, and yet the end result was there all the same.

 

[Asminys]

He watched the pirate run off across the salt flat towards the trenches that surrounded the base. He had been forced to watch Emryc stretch and paw at his luscious silver hair the entire walk. Watch him crack his shoulders and touch at his shoulders and back. It had infuriated him. It had been a joy to watch and that made it burn all the more because he knew he was being teased. The younger Sith was turning out to be much more of an annoyance than he had been before when he thought of him as an ant.

"Who said he gets to make it to the base." Asminys growled as he caught the glint of bloodlust in Emryc's eye. It only made the inferno in his chest burn all the higher. Breaking into a sprint after the pirate, he caught up to him. Twisting as he passed the rugged man, his lightsaber blazed into the pirate's chest as he caught the man's eye in passing. Shock. Betrayal. Death. Those were the three things that passed through the man's eyes before he collapsed and was left behind on the salt flats to be forgotten forever.

Asminys enjoyed every second of it, but it was a fleeting joy. Running with his saber ablaze, he deflected a bolt that was shot from one of the trenches. It seemed their approach had finally been noticed. Not that it would mean safety for those that dwelled within the base.

He was on the trenches before another shot could be fired and he jumped in, floating down to rip the throat of a pirate out with his bare-hand, blood spraying and flesh clinging to the clawed strike that he had delivered. He roared in fury as he cut through pirates, their death's bringing no satisfaction.

There was no satisfaction, only burning desire.

He charged through the tunnels, howling rage as the pirates scrambled for their lives. They died. Their blood soaked the salt that lay at the bottom of the tunnels.

He rushed into the bowels of the base, slaughtering all who crossed his path with his blade and his fist, mercilessly slashing and pummeling the pirates who had made the dire mistake of crossing the Sith. They died. Their bodies would be forgotten in the miserable cave they had called home.

Still, there was no satisfaction. Only a need for more.

 

[Emryc Thorne]

Emryc watched Asminys dart forth to kill the pirate he had just set loose. He simply sighed as he watched the display, rolling his eyes. Even then, the glint of amusement didn’t leave him. He took it all in stride, slowly walking into the base after Asminys began his charge.

He looked around and occasionally used the Force to fling people off the upper ledges of the gorge. He followed Asminys through the tunnels, deflecting bolts intended for the other man with a lazy wave of his saber. He used the Force to send a speeder flying through the air and mow down several pirates at once.

Emryc couldn’t deny that watching Asminys unchained like this was exhilarating. He was a beast that had been let loose, and he moved with precision and grace. Emryc considered himself a formidable fighter, but he didn’t match Asminys in his prowess with the blade. He studied the older Sith as he followed, meticulously picking up on his every move. His gaze lingered for longer than necessary on certain aspects of him, and he reminded himself to repent for it later. Why was it so easy to sin?

He was slower than the older Sith because of his leg as well. His forte was the Force, and he used it to send objects flying all around to crush anyone in his path. His saber flew from his hand and rapidly sliced and slashed through various chests and necks. This was all as he walked as if on a casual garden stroll.

He walked by a few pirates around a fire that had been sitting and drinking. His saber spun rapidly to removing their heads from their bodies before whizzing back into his hand. Before one of the bodies could drop, Emryc used the Force to call a beer bottle to himself that the man was about to crack open.

By the time Asminys was done and found Emryc again, he was in the process of setting up a ship for their departure. He had the bottle opened and was sipping from it, marveling at the bootleg craft brew. He stood on the exit ramp waiting for Asminys as he scanned for any other movement on the horizon.

 

[Asminys]

Asminys rampage through the base took him deep into the complex as he chased all who lived down to their deaths, a hungry hound who had caught the scent of blood. He was aware of Emryc and his eyes throughout his rampage, keeping the younger Sith at the back of his consciousness in case he attempted some sudden betrayal. It did not come. By the time he was done his chest heaved from the effort and his spirit soared for a moment with the exaltation of the destruction he had wreaked.

He stalked into the hangar, his blade humming gently at his side. His bare chest and arms were slick with the blood of pirates and the sweat of his exertion. His bloodthirsty eyes fixed on Emryc at the bottom of the ship, a beer in his hand as he waited patiently for the beast that he had unleashed on the pirates. They glowed with the intensity of hatred.

He started walking towards him, menace in his eyes. His mind struggled to put leash on the rage that coursed through his body, that pounded through his heart.

He should have killed him.

He wanted to kill him.

The Sith was injured, his lame leg still swathed in the remains of his shirt, the shirt that no longer covered him. He crossed the hangar at speed, the bars of his minds cage struggling to slam shut on the fury of his bloodlust.

He would kill him.

He imagined thrusting his blade through the center of the younger Sith's muscular chest, out the back of his beautiful back to mar the mosaic of pain that lay there, putting an end to his devotion. He imagined the look on his face as the light faded from those cold beautiful empty eyes. He imagined the smirk, still plastered on his face as the life faded from his body, permanent and immortal in Asminys mind.

Click.

He slammed shut the cage, reclaiming his body and mind from the darkness that swirled ever hating in his heart. The thoughts were still there, tantalizing in their violence, seductive in their power. But new thoughts mixed with the old in a confusing haze as he closed on the younger Sith.

He wanted to grab the Sith by the throat and push him into the ship, to show him the fire of his passion that roared in the darkness of his heart. He wanted to explore every inch of the scars that laid on his body and stare into those cold remorseless eyes as he had his way. He wanted to hurt him and please him and take pleasure from him.

He wanted everything.

He came to a stop at the bottom of the ramp, saber still humming in his hand as he struggled with his clouded mind. His eyes scoured the younger Sith, combing over every inch of him with a fine tooth before finally locking on those silver eyes. Finally, he deactivated his saber. Clipping it on his belt. He cleared his throat.

"Enjoy the show?" He asked, the hatred beginning to fade from his eyes as their fire settled to a glowing ember.

 

[Emryc Thorne]

Emryc watched as Asminys charged like a bull. For a moment he thought for sure the man intended to run him through. He took another sip from the beer, silently calculating what he would need to do in that scenario. He had an injured leg, but he did have other means of fighting. He could feel the rage and anger whirling within Asminys, and it was raw fury that now was channeled at him. The beast had been unchained, and now it had run out of things to kill. Emryc was the only one standing.

The desire was plain as day in the older Sith’s eyes. Emryc didn’t need to read his thoughts to know where they were, and now they were likely a blend of destroying and pleasing him. The thought almost brought a smile to his face, but he restrained himself. He took another drink from his bottle as Asminys put his saber away.

The Sith was drenched in blood and sweat, the blood extending all the way down his arms. Emryc eyed the man for a moment as he drank from his bottle, not bothering to answer his question. He kept a cold, fixed stare on Asminys’ eyes.

The Force began to work then, and it would be a testament to Emryc’s fine tuned control of it. The blood along the older Sith’s arms suddenly became more tangible, withdrawing out from his skin and traveling up along towards his chest. The same was true for the blood on his torso. To Asminys it would feel as if fingers were slowly caressing up along his arms and the tips of the digits were grazing along his chest. It was the Force working in its more precise and perfect form. All while Emryc simply looked at Asminys. There was nothing betrayed in those eyes, his face blank as Asminys felt himself touched, but then deprived.

The blood collected into a pool at the end of this. Emryc lifted a hand and moved the blob of collected fluid over and did a casual wave of his wrist. The blood splattered all over the ground behind Asminys and off the ramp.

“No reason to get the ship messy,” Emryc said simply as he took another sip of beer and walked over into the cockpit. Asminys would know by now how particular Emryc was about cleanliness.

 

[Asminys]

Predictably, Emryc said nothing. No reaction showed on his face or eyes the entire time he had charged him down, his words were met with silence. And then he felt it, the slow slithering of power that caressed his body and took the blood, sweat, and grime from it. A shiver of pleasure shot down his spine as he felt the gentle touch of the force running up his arms, grazing along his chest. The blood flew away and he was left cleansed of the evidence of his onslaught.

Asminys said nothing as Emryc made his comment and walked away. He stood there for a long moment. Darkness rattled and raged against the cage in his mind, roaring its dissatisfaction at every aspect of the encounter, screaming its need to echo into every corner of his mind.

He stood there for a long moment before finally boarding the ship. He breathed deeply, letting the beast subside as he forced his mind to calm. He was being played. He did not like being played. Yet there he had stood, Emryc's instrument of destruction that he had unleashed upon the pirates of the base, then simply cleaned up and put away when he was done with it. It burned inside him. It made him feel as he felt during the final days of the Cadre, when he would fight all day for the spectacle of the masters only to be hung up in shackles every night alongside his brothers and sisters, naked and spent of energy.

He did not know how to feel, and he did not like it.

And he was tired.

Entering the cockpit silently, he sat in the co-pilot's chair and stared at the instruments. He did not speak. He glanced to the side at Emryc as the younger Sith powered up the ship. He would let him have the first word for now.

 

[Emryc Thorne]

Emryc revved up the engines, the ship lifting up from the massacred base. Their job was completed, and they left behind carnage in their wake. He was silent for a long time, feeling Asminys withdraw into his own mind. The older Sith had a shift in his demeanor, and Emryc didn’t intend to read it. He had his own battles to work through.

He finished the beer and set the bottle down. They had jumped into hyperspace by then, making their way back to Sith space. He put the ship on autopilot before finally rising from his seat. He was lost in the confines of his mind, walking over to his cabin. Asminys would notice he grabbed the bag with his idols and whip in it.

Within moments, the incense was lit and the idols were set. Emryc was kneeling once more, muttering his prayer. In between his prayer he saw Asminys. It wasn’t the Force but his own fingers delicately grazing along his arms and chest.

Thwack.

Emryc grunted as he chanted his prayer again. He saw the man’s eyes, that sick humanity and that passion that danced there. He saw those lips and the potential for a true smile that Emryc envied.

Thwack.

He chanted Andraste’s name. He saw her face, but his gaze dragged lower. Her delicate neck was replaced with firm muscles and the beginnings of the tattoos that were burned into his mind.

Thwack.

He chanted for Kravos and his strength, and he felt the sensation of a warm body against his own. The touch he so badly wanted. That cancer that wanted to multiply and grow again.

Thwack.

He recited the prayers and went through all the emotions that came with the Sith creed. And yet, his mind lingered on emotions that had nothing to do with anger or rage.

Thwack.

His eyes had been closed the entire time. There were many more strikes until he finally opened his eyes. When they opened, his eyes glimmered gold. A shaky hand slowly set the whip down, a shuddered breath coming from him as blood poured from his back. He was in an entirely different place than where he had begun. He was collected, calm, methodical, mechanical. He gazed at the figurines, emulating once again what they stood for. He felt liberated, his mind tranquil and cool once again.

He knew there would come a day where he wouldn’t need so many lashes. He stared hard at the figurines to remind himself that he was on the path to righteousness. A path he could never shift from.

 

[Asminys]

He had waited for Emryc to have the first word. Instead they rode in silence. The stars ahead stretched into the dazzling whirl of hyperspace and Emryc stood and departed from the cabin. Asminys breathed a deep breath. Of relief or rejection he wasn't certain. The feeling that he was just an object, a tool and a weapon did not leave him. It was one he had borne since escaping the confines of the Cadre, one that he had tried to forget, tried to cast off and leave behind him with his broken chains.

He was too tired to be angry.

Perhaps rage had its limits, perhaps his anger was not without bottom. Had he used it all, spent it in the slaughter. If he had he felt empty now, like a vessel that had been poured out and discarded. Pulling his feet up onto the chair he wrapped his arms around them and rested his head, closing his eyes.

He breathed deeply.

He wondered if he had once felt sadness, if he could feel sadness right now. A small quiver of emotion that would burst the dam and allow him to feel anything other than rage and emptiness. It was not there. He did not possess it within him.

He was a weapon.

That was what the lessons of the Cadre had taught him. Not a person, a weapon. To be used and discarded, only to be picked up and used again when blood was to be shed. Asminys, his name that he had taken pride in when he earned it. Even that was a part of the lesson. To be Asminys was to be a blade, and that was all he was. A sword used in the slaughter. Even tool's had other purpose, but his was singular. Weapons were made to kill, not to feel.

He breathed deeply.

He wasn't sure how long he sat there, unfeeling, empty and spent of energy. He could hear the rhythm of the whip echoing through the ship as Emryc expressed his devotion, purged his weaknesses. He wondered what was passing through the other Sith's mind as he prayed. If he was punishing himself for needing to be saved by the likes of an object. A weapon was not meant to save life, only destroy it.

He should have killed him.

He knew the thought would linger long after Emryc's presence no longer plagued him, that the shadow of his mercy would cast doubt in the shackles of his mind long after this moment passed. He was a weapon, yet he had tried his best to pretend to be human and had been burned for it. If he were capable, he might have shed a tear for the man he could have been. Instead he felt the small ember at his core, the burning coal of his rage that had flickered but never faltered.

 

[Emryc Thorne]

Emryc sat in silence for a long moment. He closed his eyes once more, reeling from the stinging pain on his back. He had been doing this for years, and it never got any easier. He lingered only for a moment before dutifully cleaning up the blood off the floor. He had to place a hand on a nearby table to steadily rise to his feet.

He was completely taxed. He had exerted himself with the Force not only at the pirate base, but also with that refined use of it on Asminys. He was injured in his leg and his back was torn open and raw. He felt weak in every sense of the word, but he had stayed true to his devotion. He shakily placed all the figurines back in the bag, ensuring that no blood got on them.

Emryc thought about the last time Asminys had helped clean up his back. He had purposely poured more of the alcohol on to punish him further. It had caused him agony, but it was deserved. It was to punish himself for the brushes of his fingers against his wounded skin. He stopped his mind from going elsewhere, but he knew he was exhausted right now.

“Asminys,” He called out, “I have a problem that needs fixing,” He figured the man would relish the opportunity to burn and sting the wounds on his back. If the Sith arrived, Emryc would hand him the disinfectant and cloth like before.

Emryc spun around without a word, staring ahead. He awaited the new slew of punishments.

 

[Asminys]

By the time Emryc's call rang out through the ship, Asminys had finished his revery of emptiness. Though the fire burned low the ember was once again lit. He waited a few moments before standing, he would not come like some dog called by a master. Instead he made his way slowly through the ship, made the younger Sith wait.

He was not entirely sure what Emrcy wanted of him, but given what the young man had been doing he was right to guess it was more of the same. He was too tired from the fighting and walking and rageful slaughter to argue with him or tell him to kriff off and clean his own back. The fire in his eyes burned low as he merely accepted the rag and disinfectant.

He was too exhausted to act spiteful, and the disinfectant soaked the rag in an appropriate measure. He stopped for a moment before first touching the rag to Emryc's back, his eyes soaking in the fresh mosaic of pain. New blood, new wounds that would form new scars on the Sith's already tattered back.

He was neither rough nor gentle in his cleaning. The act could be described as clinical as his weary arms dragged the rag across the young Sith's back. The blood was cleaned away to leave fresh, shining pink wounds staring back into Asminys' eyes. They flashed for a moment as his memories called back to the last time, when he had watched the Sith carry out his devotions, but the fire was low.

A gentle brush with his hand to remove the hair from the nape of Emryc's neck, the rag continued its work as he cleared a few flecks of blood that had wandered upwards away from the main canvas of red. Stopping, his eyes roamed to make certain he was finished. Satisfied with his work, he pressed the rag back into Emryc's hand before sitting down wearily on the bunk of the cabin.

"Does it work?" He asked, his voice hollow. He was tired, wished for nothing more than sleep, and yet his curiosity drove him to ask. "Does it make you stronger?"

 

[Emryc Thorne]

He didn’t get the satisfaction he sought. Asminys was almost robotic in nature, reflecting parts of himself. It was curious to Emryc, but he wasn’t one to ask. He stood in silence as the older Sith cleaned up his back. He gritted his teeth through the pain, but it wasn’t as bad as he mentally prepared for.

The blood was cleaned up, and his raw wounds were left red and sore. He would have to sleep on his stomach yet again and let them heal. Asminys had been methodical, and yet that slight brush against the nape of his neck threatened to send a jolt through him. Emryc grabbed at that jolt and tempered it, stopped it in its tracks. It never had the chance to travel all the way down to the small of his back. It was killed prematurely, and he had to keep from smiling. His punishments had worked.

Asminys stepped away and Emryc began to gather up his things, using the rags to disinfect the whip itself. He was quiet when the Sith asked his question. He could tell the man was exhausted, and he didn’t have the fire burning in him as before. Something happened in the cockpit, something Emryc had missed. Something dug in deep. He wondered if it was that humanity that was threatening to poison him.

The question made him think more than he wanted. Emryc glanced down at the bag of his idols, thinking on his creed and principles. He thought about the Sith Lords of old. They walked with grace, they held themselves to their principles and they ruled the galaxy. They had to believe it. He had to believe it. He had to believe that it made him stronger. He had to believe it until it manifested. Until he no longer felt the need to strike himself.

Though a tidal wave of thoughts went through his mind, he only asked a simple question. This time he granted Asminys the mercy of not looking at him as he asked it. Emryc cleaned the bloodied hooked points of the whip as he spoke, “Does it bother you that it does?”