The Lion and the Wolf

[D.C.]

Korriban was a... well... Yea, uhm, Oseth couldn't think of a cliche line, to be honest. Some would say it was a dark, dangerous place, full of Sith hungry for power; others would say it was a tainted world only a few dared to visit; and again others said that Korriban was a world full of ancient treasures and tombs. All of the above was true, and commonly known, so Darth Oseth didn't really think he needed to repeat those sentences. They were cliche and dull, and he hated that.

So instead of trying to describe such a stupid, ugly planet, he just landed his ship in the space port and a few moments later he walked down the boarding ramp with his hands tucked in the pockets of his pants.

He wore a suit that day. There was no real reason why he wore one, he just liked suits. It was a black suit, one that businessmen often wore, with a white shirt and a red tie. His half-long, blonde hair fell beyond his ears and his stubble beard made him look slightly older than he really was. Of course he wouldn't tell anyone how old exactly he was, because he didn't think it was relevant. If one would look at the blonde, green eyed man right now, they probably wouldn't be able to tell he was a Sith Lord. He didn't fancy dressing up as a darksider that much, mainly because it scared off the ladies.

He whistled a happy tune as he walked across the space port, and headed over to the Sith Temple. Already he could smell the stench of the Sith who resided on this planet, and he had a hard time trying not to grimace. He hated it when people grimaced; it made them look so damn ugly. Come to think of it, there were a lot of things Oseth hated. But there were a lot of things he liked too; such as suits. And apples. Yea, he loved apples!

He'd been holding an apple in his right hand, inside the pocket of his pants. He brought it up to his mouth and took a bite. That must have looked a bit weird; a Sith Lord dressed up in a suit and eating an apple as he walked down the corridors of the Sith Temple. It made people wonder just who this businessman was and what he was doing here on Korriban.

He walked around a corner. He was on his way to the big courtyard to go to the valley of the Dark Lords.

There were lots and lots of students in the valley that day, much like every day. They were examining ancient Sith artifacts, or training in the ways of the Dark Side of the Force, or sparring with their training sabers. Most of them smelled rather bad, something Oseth didn't really like. If there's one thing he just failed to understand, then it was why all these so-called Sith had to dress up like idiotic cultists and why they didn't use deodorant. It was just... not nice. No wonder most people in the galaxy were afraid of them. O well, fear could be a great weapon in the right hands, and so Oseth assumed it was okay for a Sith to smell bad and dress up like an idiot. He shrugged, took a bite from his red apple, and moved along.

He stopped in the center of the valley, which lay in front of the Sith Academy. He stood about, day dreaming for a bit, and watched a sparring match between two acolytes. He thought the acolytes sucked real bad, but that was okay. Acolytes were supposed to suck, why else would they be acolytes? If they were really good, they'd be marauders by now, right? Or perhaps even of a higher rank than that. O, well, it didn't matter.

He took a bite, watched the acolytes spar, and leaned with his back against a stone pillar. It was an ugly day on Korriban and he regretted being there.

So why had he come?

Well... he had his reasons.

 

[Sreeya]

OoC: Takes place before my rp with Xeno


Andraste was sitting atop a boulder with a flat top, watching the acolytes nearby. She twirled one of her glass roses between her fingers, quietly humming to herself. Beads of sweat began to line her forehead, the Korriban heat always excruciating. Despite being on the grounds for so long, she could never adapt to the heat. Her legs hung lazily, waving back and forth to a rhythm only she heard within her mind.

The smell of cologne and expensive shampoo hit her like a ton of bricks, almost making her choke. She looked to the side in utter confusion, spotting a man in a suit. He looked like a snobby business man, and the fact that he had an apple in his hand didn’t help matters. She raised an eyebrow, watching him curiously as he leaned against a pillar, observing the acolytes with clear distaste. She would have pegged him to be some sort of businessman that worked with the Sith. However, that was when she sensed his Force signature.

It hit her with more force than the various sprays he doused himself with. He was a powerful Sith, a formidable foe. But why was his appearance so..? She hopped down from the boulder, absentmindedly wandering over to him. She looked up at him curiously. Unlike other acolytes, she was blunt about approaching Sith and addressing them directly regardless of what rank they held.

“What’re you out here for? You’ll stain your nice clothes with sweat.”

 

[D.C.]

Oseth didn't look at the acolyte that had approached him yet. He just looked at the sparring match in front of him and took another bite from his apple. He knew the acolytes were practicing the Shien form, but sometimes it looked like they were screwing around with Shii-Cho. It looked really bad and Oseth wondered who was teaching those acolytes. Then again, these might be fresh students, not used to handling a lightsaber yet. The poor souls; Oseth was sure they'd die soon enough. He loved the idea.

He finished his apple and threw the remains on the ground. It fell into the dust and lied still. Only then did Oseth turn around to look at the one who'd spoken to him so boldly. He didn't smile as he looked at her, nor did he look stern or angry. He just looked at her, his light-green eyes reflecting a little bit of curiosity, but that was all.

'I usually stain them with blood,' he said, as if that explained everything. He crossed his arms in front of his chest and leaned against the pillar again. He wondered why the acolyte had come to him, and why she'd spoken to him like that. He tended to give those who had the balls to speak to him in such a way a proper beating, but he was in a forgiving mood that day and decided to wait and see what she wanted.

 

[Sreeya]

Andraste scoffed at his response before covering it up with a cough. She followed his line of sight to look at the acolytes. She herself had been pitted against other acolytes to spar and practice combat. It was a tedious affair, one that made her feel more like a robot than a student. Every move was practiced, every step precise, everything she learned was memorizing and vomiting information. She tilted her head, watching those in front of her who so obsessively strove for power. Did they think of what to do once they obtained it?

She did not look at the odd Sith next to her. He appeared to be like her in ways, or even like Royston Spektor. More and more she found the odd Sith that lay hidden among a vast sea of drones. His words had made him sound like any other insane Sith, but she knew there was more to him than met the eye. She raised the glass flower she had made towards him, still staring ahead.

"Can you see this? Do you want to paint it?"

She looked at him then, raising an eyebrow.

"With blood? Wouldn't that make it a proper flower?"

 

[D.C.]

Oseth glanced at her glass flower. He saw it clearly and was a little surprised to see it. He had not seen something like that before. He remained silent for a while, before finally meeting her eyes with his own. He nodded to her.

'Yes,' he told her. Suddenly he held a vibroknife in his right hand. It was an odd thing; the one moment his hand was empty and the next he held a vibroknife. It was like a magician's trick, but Oseth was no magician. He was Sith.

He is Sith.

'I have the pencil,' he said, holding up the knife. 'Hold out your arm, you'll provide the paint for me.'

He looked straight into her eyes, wondering if she'd hold out her arm or was too afraid of his blade. He usually scared off acolytes when they came to him to ask him a question, but something whispered to him that this one was unlike the rest. He saw it in her eyes.

 

[Sreeya]

She grinned widely at his words. At long last, she could watch a blade cut into her skin without breaking her promise to Vereor. She eagerly offered up her wrist, pushing back her sleeve. Her pallid skin was marred with countless self injuries she had inflicted, with some gashes still not fully healed. Andraste felt that familiar adrenaline rush begin to course through her at the thought of being able to feel that sickeningly delicious pain once again. She could once again visit her memories, once again visit that night. She had been deprived for so long..

"Well go on, do it!"

Andraste looked at the pointed edge of the knife, the silvery blade glinting under the sun. She wanted to feel it smoothly cut into her flesh and she wanted to watch the rivulets of crimson accumulate and slowly cascade down like warm summer rain. It was exhilarating, and she couldn't hide her twisted excitement. She did not meet his gaze, instead wanting to watch the procedure.

 

[D.C.]

He didn't speak a word when she held out her arm, pushing back her sleeve. He could see scars, lots of scars. Evidence of her being a... a cutter. She was offering her arm, willingly. She had to be stronger than the rest. Surely crazy too, but that was okay. Being crazy wasn't necessarily a bad thing.

He stepped towards her and stopped right in front of her, with the knife in hand. He was aware of a few acolytes staring at them, but he ignored them. If they were still staring at them after Oseth was done, he'd gauge out their eyes with the blood stained knife.

He grabbed her arm with his left hand and lifted the knife in his right hand. He cut open her flesh, slowly, drawing blood. To many it would hurt like hell, but this one was used to cutting. And so he did it slowly.

He stared at the blood on her arm, seeping out of the cut. He licked his lips and grinned. It was an evil grin, one that'd scare off most people, but not her. No, it wouldn't scare her off.

'Ever tasted it, did you?' he asked, without taking his eyes off the fresh cut he had made. He still held her arm and in case she wanted to pull away, he wouldn't let her.

He leaned in slowly, a lock of hair falling in front of his face, covering his right eye. Bystanders might think he was kissing her arm, but in fact he was drinking her hot, red blood. It tasted sweet. Familiar. He straightened his back again and looked up from her cut. Some of the blood dripped down from the corner of his mouth, his lips were all red. His light-green eyes seemed to light up with a faint, mysterious glow.

'There,' he said, still holding her arm, 'another cut for your collection.'

 

[Sreeya]

She felt a chill go up her spine, that sense of familiar euphoria almost overwhelming her as the knife cut into her skin. She had been called weak so many times for her self inflicted injuries, but this man celebrated it. She could tell he reveled in it. She watched the blood slowly pool out of the gash, the exquisite essence that was laced with her Force signature. She looked at the blood and was suddenly thrown back in time, withdrawing into her mind. She revisited her old home, the night a torrential storm had erupted all around her. The night he had found her. She saw the images vividly, dropping her doll in a pool of blood.

The moment lasted a few seconds, but she felt revitalized coming back from it. It was why she repeatedly cut herself, to visit her past life over and over again. Blood was the only connection, the thin thread tying her two realities together. Andraste said nothing as he asked if she had tasted her own blood. She absentminded nodded yes, more curious as to why he was asking her the question at all. As he leaned in, her eyes widened slightly, as she fought the urge to yank her arm back. For some reason, he was almost hypnotic in the most subtle movements.

She gasped as she felt his mouth on her wrist, the pain mixed with the feel of his hot breath on her skin. She felt his tongue graze over the wound, drawing in her blood. She was frozen in spot, unsure how to react. At the same time, she did not want him to stop, finding the act to be oddly sensual. Was that what it was? She did not understand it, just as she hadn't understood what happened with Gabriel. It was territory she had never ventured into, yet there was no denying that this odd gesture seemingly set her ablaze. As he withdrew, she quietly retracted her wrist to herself, looking at the clean wound.

The other acolytes were whispering among themselves now, but they would disperse if he even looked at them. Andraste was too confused to notice this, too enthralled by what just happened. She finally looked up to meet his gaze. Her voice was devoid of sarcasm this time.

"Who are you?"

'What are you?' was the question that resounded within her thoughts. Loud enough for him to pick up on it.

 

[D.C.]

He let his arm fall to his side. The Dark Side aura swirled around him now. If he was somewhere else, on a world untouched by the Dark Side, his strong aura would have tainted it. He licked his lips again, removing the blood. He glanced around and most acolytes immediately turned away to flee from him. A few remained and he smiled faintly. It was a dark smile. The smile of a killer.

A silver flash seared through thin air. The knife got buried deep inside the victim's chest. The young acolyte got knocked off his feet and fell into the dust. He was dead instantly, for the knife had pierced the poor guy's heart. Oseth looked back to her, as if nothing had happened. The remaining acolytes fled as well.

He did hear her thought. He still smiled that evil, killer's smile.

'A name doesn't mean anything. But I can tell you what I am,' he said with his deep, haunting voice. Sith students and marauders alike walked around them, avoiding his gaze and trying not to show that they were afraid. This one might dress unlike a Sith Lord, but looks didn't count for much. Not at all.

He leaned in a little closer to her and whispered the words, so only she would hear. 'I, girl,' he said, 'am the wolf.'

 

[Sreeya]

Andraste looked at him, at his lips as he licked the blood off. It was her blood, her life essence which tinted his mouth. It was an odd sight, an even stranger notion to consider. He lapped it up as if it were delicious, as if he enjoyed the taste. Her mind began to wander, but he quickly distracted her by tossing the knife. Her eyes followed his movements, shocked as she saw a useless acolyte fall to his death. The man looked back at her as if nothing happened. It took all her willpower to tear her eyes away from the boy her age, who now lied dead.

His words were piercing, haunting. She knew then that he had read her thoughts. His appearance was incredibly deceiving. She had caught him munching on an apple earlier, and now he was a completely different man. He was an enigma, a contradiction and a beautiful perversion of the Force. She knew then what kind of power he possessed, and how the Force also heeded his call. She bit her lip as he leaned in closer to her, making her almost step back. She did not, rooted in place.

He was a wolf. A wolf in sheep's clothing. She saw that now, as clearly as day. He was a monster, neatly tucked away behind a beautiful facade. Beautiful. That's what it was. Like a flower. A rose with its thorns. She had to smile. The simplicity of it was perfect. The irony of it was amusing. She looked down at the fresh new cut on her wrist.

"What did you taste? What did you see?"

Did her blood provide him with visions as it did her? Did he see what she saw?

 

[D.C.]

'You wouldn't want to know,' he told her, ever so mysterious, 'because the truth always hurts, doesn't it? You do like to get hurt... I know that now, but not by words. You want to feel the cold steel slicing your skin. You are a brave one. That is good. Yet I wonder if you're in control... of the Dark Side. Of your pain... Because that's what the Dark Side is, ent it? It's all about pain.'

He didn't step back. He stood there, right in front of her. He didn't try to intimidate her, but he wouldn't be surprised if he did. He wasn't just some power hungry Sith. No, he was different. He didn't crave power, he only wanted chaos. It was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen.

Chaos.

He reached into his jacket, producing a rose. It was odd and again it seemed like a magician's trick, and maybe it was a trick indeed. An illusion created by the Dark Side of the Force, which was his to command. But as the thorns of the rose blinked in the sunlight, the rose appeared to be real after all. He handed it out to her.

'For you,' he said, 'because you ent like the rest.' He offered her a melancholic smile, which often struck fear into the hearts of men and women. He winked at her. 'Ent glass and it needs water to stay alive, but it's just as pretty.'

 

[Sreeya]

She wasn't in control. It was something she did not share with anyone. It enshrouded her in mystery, made others fascinated. However, it left her detached, left her wondering. Always wondering what they saw. He did not answer her question, making her want to press the topic. She did not, however, knowing that he would simply enjoy toying with her. He still did not bother her, his appearance constantly catching her off guard.

She noticed that he did not withdraw back to where he stood, barely keeping any distance between them. She felt a familiar heat rising to her face, but attempted to fruitlessly quell it. If he was the wolf, she felt more like a wolf's prey. He was toying with her, circling around her, sampling her. She remembered the sight of his bloodstained lips. When he reached into his jacket, she half expected him to draw out another knife.

Andraste gasped for the second time, spotting the rose. In all her time at the temple, with all her love for flowers and all those she had been around, she had never been presented with a flower. She did not know how to react for a long moment, simply staring at the beautiful rose. She could smell its sweet, intoxicating scent. Andraste finally reached for it, curling her fingers around the stem and drawing the flower to herself. She marveled at the petals, bringing up her glass replica to compare. She smiled at the similarities. Andraste looked up at him, the smile remaining.

"You do not belong here. As I do not."

 

[D.C.]

'No, I do not,' he said, 'and you do not, like you said yourself. Just look around you, surely you can see that none of these so-called Sith truly belong here. What is a Sith nowadays anyway?' He spoke slowly, his voice still haunting and deep. He brushed the lock of hair out of his face.

'I hope you like the rose,' he said and then remained silent for a while, just gazing at her with those frightening green eyes of his. Just who was this girl exactly? Obviously there was more to her than meets the eye.

'Do you want to tell me your name?'

It might have sounded polite, and perhaps he really wanted to be polite. They stood there, still, in the middle of the valley of the Dark Lords, among a few ancient pillars and ruines. He didn't step aside, he didn't step back, he simply stood still in front of her. If she would've looked him in the eye, and if she would've looked closely, she might have seen the faint violet shimmer in his eyes. It was the Dark Side that was burning inside him. The Dark Side which he had captured, and locked up in his blackened heart.

The sun slowly sank away beyond the horizon; the skies now had the color of blood. A beautiful sight to behold. Most acolytes returned to the temple, calling it a day, and Oseth called them weak in his mind. He remembered his days as an acolyte clearly, how he had spent day and night training in the ways of the Dark Side.

No wonder he had managed to enslave the power.

In silence he awaited her answer. She did not have to tell him her name if she did not want to. It was hers to decide, not his, even though he was a Sith Lord and she was but a mere acolyte. His arms were down at his sides. The wind caressed his face. A few strands of hair fell in front of his eyes again, but this time he didn't bother to brush them away.

He was the Wolf; but that didn't mean that she was the Sheep... or maybe she was the Sheep after all. He figured only time would tell. He smiled at her, a mysterious smile that often made women weak in knees, but he didn't mean to seduce her, though it might have looked like that from a distance.

He let some of his Dark Side energy drift over to her and surround her, so that she might get a taste of what his power was like. He didn't want to show off, he just wanted her to know whom she was talking to. What kind of man she was talking to.

If she wanted to run, she had to do so now, for this would be her last chance.

But he didn't expect her to run.

He didn't want her to run.

 

[Sreeya]

"Machines."

Andraste blurted the word before thinking it through. She did not retract it, nor did she fear the consequences. She stared ahead, watching the crimson sky stretch out for miles before her with thin strands of azure. She pondered further on what the Sith were.

"Purposeless machines. It's a constant strive for power. They do not know beyond reaching that apex. They do not know that there's nowhere to go but down and it's a precarious position. They can be drunk with power and blind to the abysmal drop below. They will step off the edge and become nothing more than a memory."

She smiled at his words, pulling the rose close to her nose and inhaling its scent. She let the soft petals brush over her lips, her thoughts far away. As she twirled the rose between her fingers, she got lost in the crimson swirl, like paint that was smeared. She looked up as he asked her for her name. She did not say anything initially, looking into his eyes for a moment. They were the only things that betrayed what he truly was. She saw the monster within him, the one that gazed at her through the tinted glass of his emerald orbs.

"Do you value the respect and fear you command here? Is it worth anything to you?"

She began to slowly walk away, towards the desert. She felt the gentle breeze of the evening, a welcoming feeling after the excruciating heat of the day. She unclasped the cloak she was required to wear, letting it fly behind her, carried by the wind. She continued walking till she felt her feet dig into the sea of sand. She could see the moon now, thinly veiled by wisps of clouds. Andraste smiled at the sight, letting her thoughts flow into his mind from afar. It was a whisper, as if the wind itself had spoken to him with the sigh of a lover.

"Andraste."

 

[D.C.]

As he listened to her words, he wondered who taught her that... or maybe it was really her own opinion. Oseth knew the acolytes were nothing more than puppets these days. Those who claimed to be masters of the Dark Side, were nothing more than puppeteers... it was a sad thing.

Oseth never claimed to be a master, and if he did it was only to try to scare off someone. No, he was no master of the Dark Side, as the Dark Side was something one couldn't master. Even if one trained a life time, they wouldn't master the awesome, destructive, all-consuming power. It was impossible.

Instead, he said he was 'in control'.

Then she asked him a question, a question he could have asked an acolyte—or even a fellow Sith Lord, for that matter—himself. It was a good question, and for the first time in a long while, he wasn't sure what to tell her.

She walked away, towards the desert of Korriban. He watched her take off her cloak, watched it float before finally falling to the ground. It was such an amazing sight to behold: the darkening sky; the rising moon; a mysterious woman walking towards the desert ahead.

And then he heard her name.

The Wolf followed in her wake and came to stand beside her.

'When I first became a Sith Lord,' he told her, 'I valued it more than anything.' He knew full what that that was no answer to her question, but he didn't say anything more about the subject. He wondered if that would frustrate her, anger her, or if she simply wouldn't care.

'Is this what you want, Andraste?' he asked curiously. 'Are you here to become a ... Sith? Or are you here to become...' he paused, gazing at the vast desert before them. The moonlight fell right into his eyes, and they were the eyes of a wolf.

'... to become the Lion?'

 

[Sreeya]

She hadn't expected him to turn the question on her. It caught her off guard. She pondered on his words, about how he used past tense. Andraste could tell she had piqued his curiosity, though the feeling was mutual. She continued twirling the rose, so out of place among the desert. She smiled then, crouching down and picking up some sand in her hand. The wind made it flow out between her fingers.

"Being a Sith means to be a single grain of sand within a desert. It means to be a slave to the Dark Side."

She rose again, not looking at him.

"I am here because I need to learn the trade before I can apply it."

It was a very matter of fact answer. She almost surprised herself with it. She hadn't answered his question directly. She did not see herself as a lion, not yet anyway. There was no denying what others saw in her.

"You saw something. Others see my future, one I myself cannot. Do you see it too? You did not answer me. I do not ask for your name in return for mine. I ask..I ask for my destiny."

 

[D.C.]

'Destiny,' he whispered. He gazed out over the desert for a few more moments, before glancing at her sideways. 'Nothing's written in stone,' he said, 'I didn't see the future, but a possible future. Those who claim to be able to see the future are liars. The future constantly changes. Now, ent that one of those horrible cliches?'

He looked in front of himself again. He was silent. He had her in the palm of his hand, or so he thought. He was the Wolf and she was the Sheep; but he'd seen the Lion she might become and he knew he had to keep her close. She had asked him for her destiny, and so he would tell her about her destiny, instead of the future. The future might change, but destiny was not the same as the future.

'I saw blood,' he told her after a while, as if that was an answer to all her questions.

He turned to face her. A young girl, trying to learn the ways of the Dark Side. The valley of the Dark Lords was empty now, except for a few fanatic 'Sith' trying to study the ancient tombs. Oseth was aware of their presence without having to look at them. He hoped they would enter one of the tombs. They would die if they did.

He whispered to her, barely audible. A haunting whisper that might sent the shivers down her spine... if she would've been just a regular person. In those dark moments before the night, Korriban seemed to be at peace... almost serene.

'I am your destiny...' the Wolf said, mysteriously.

He smiled, but she had already seen through his smile. She had looked into his green eyes and had seen the demon he truly was.

 

[Sreeya]

"Blood."

She quietly repeated the word, as if reminiscing. Andraste felt the Force swirl within her, spiraling around inside as if she were a hollow shell. She felt it fill her body, coursing out to her extremities. When he spoke next, she had to chuckle. Andraste tilted her face to look at him. The Force began to build, the environment around them heeding her call, drawing to her with magnetic pull. The sands rose around them, languidly circling them with hypnotic dynamism. It was an expansive twister, slowed with precise control.

"You..."

She did not utter the words aloud. It was that same whisper within his mind, slightly sensual. It would feel as if she were right next to him, her lips mere inches away from his ear, her hot breath caressing his skin.

"...are a piece of the puzzle."

A quiet laughter followed the words. Outwardly, she looked at him, just as mysteriously. She showed no indication of what she secretly told him, as if the whisper came from the very air itself. Andraste continued to spiral the sand around them, forming it into intricate shapes and letting it rise and fall around them. When she spoke next, she spoke out loud.

"Each grain. A life. A life to toss aside."

 

[D.C.]

'Indeed I am,' he whispered back, through the Force, 'for I am your destiny, as you are mine.'

He stood tall in the sand of Korriban, surrounded by the circling grains. When she spoke out loud, he was sure of it, there was a Lion sleeping inside her indeed. Or maybe not a Lion, but a Krayt Dragon. Initially he had not come to Korriban because of her, they had met by chance, but he strongly doubted it was coincidence.

He closed his eyes for a moment, hiding the Wolf inside him. He reached out in the Force and then reached out for her, seeking contact with her own power. He found it swirling within her like a tornado, begging to be released. Her power might not match his yet, but he knew that she could become infinitly more powerful than he ever would be... if she chose the right path to walk.

He opened his eyes and glanced at her. He clenched his hands to fists. He could have vanished from sight, like a ghost, disappearing and leaving her wondering who he was. Whom she had spoken to. But couldn't bring himself to turn away now, for he was as curious about her as she was about him. He found himself trapped in an eerie, somewhat sensual 'cage' and he couldn't get out. It made him wonder if she had not been the real reason for him coming to Korriban after all.

And it terrified him at the same time, though he knew she couldn't kill him. Not only because she wasn't powerful enough to kill him (not yet), but also because he was a piece of the puzzle, like she'd said herself.

He didn't show any of this, but it was very plausible she could sense it. He didn't bother to cover up his feelings with the Force. The Dark Side seethed behind his light-green eyes.

'I'm Sith...' his voice echoed through the Force, into her mind, 'and a thirsty blood wolf...'

He knelt down beside her, leaning in to her, his lips close to her ear. She'd whispered to him like that through the Force, but he whispered with his own voice. 'I'm Death...'

Of course, that was a lie, for he wasn't Death. He was playing a game now, hoping she'd play along. As the sky became darker and darker, his appearance seemed to change; an illusion he created through the Force. His golden-blonde hair turned raven-black and his eyes redder than those of a Laigrek. His face became pale as a dead man's, his lips dark-red like the color of hot blood; and in a dark, twisted way, it made him look even more attractive... even more sensual...

He sat back and look at her face. The illusion only lasted for a second, before he looked normal again. He smiled slyly.

'I can show you true Darkness,' he said, 'if you dare to come with me.' He offered her his hand.

 

[Sreeya]

Andraste nodded in approval as he agreed with her words. So he knew, knew his purpose, his destiny, his role in the grand scheme of things. She could hear his thoughts, as they flowed into her mind in hushed whispers. She could almost taste the doubts, smell the fear and see his mind clear as day. His sense of purpose expanded beyond his role as a Sith Lord, his ultimate devotion to something other than the Sith became an obscure reality. It was just out of reach, only slightly out of view, but projected enough of a presence to plant seeds of wonder within her mind.

She turned to him as he knelt beside her, laughing at his words. She saw the illusion then, saw the transformation into something else entirely. In a way he reflected herself, and she found herself lost in his gaze. Andraste faced him and brought her hands up to cup his face, barely touching him, but enough to hold him in place. She wanted him to take the plunge into the ocean of her mind, into a cesspool of torrential chaos. She smiled at him, her own face inches away from his.

“Do you want to see the Force?”

Without waiting for an answer, she gazed into his eyes. Her own eyes began to lose color, the irises fading to white. He would be pulled into her mind, beckoned by a dark energy. The monster within her clawed at him, pulling him in. An eruption of thoughts would explode within his mind, twisting, tugging, pulling and gnawing. They were fragmented thoughts, promises of power, prophecies of malevolence, a mournful requiem of insanity. It was a glimpse into a bleak future, just a peek that was fleeting, teasing. She was toying with him. She had begun to tame the beast, put it on a leash. She controlled what he saw, and the beast obeyed its master, revealing exactly what she willed. He would see the phantom that resided within her, the abysmal vortex that constructed her psyche. It was beautiful, just as it was cripplingly terrifying. It was a surge of power, like a bolt of electricity, and it transfused into him through the windows of his eyes. It would travel down his body, into his core, fill him with a perverse sense of euphoria. It was wrong, all so wrong. But that’s what made it delicious.

Andraste did not pull back from him, but an extension of her shadow pulled away from her. It circled around him, a dark silhouette that was a mere blur. It was an imprint of sin, a darkness forged from the hearth of malice. It was imbued with her dark energy, and it was alive. It was an illusion of her own, though not one she directly controlled. It was a mere representation of her thought which materialized into reality, permeating into their plane of existence. As the shadow circled, Andraste smiled at him.

“You are Death. I am the Force.”