The Lion and the Wolf

[D.C.]

She's the Force. He looked deep into her eyes, seeing what she wanted him to see, taking it all in at once. His heart froze and it was as if the world around them stopped spinning. His eyes flashed red again for the briefest of moments. He reached out with his hand, touching her cheek.

'If you're the Force,' he whispered to her, 'then it is you I've been feeling, hearing and embracing all along. If you are the Force... then you're mine.' A deep, warm voice, haunting and tempting. The voice of Death himself.

He had to let it out, the sensation she filled him with. He had to let it all go, before it would consume him wholly. Above all; he had to let her feel the same sort of sensation, if he wanted to keep up with her in this game. He focused on her, and let the darkness flow.

He reached out with the Force, draping it over her like a cloak. He let it run over her skin, touching her everywhere at the same time. As if a thousands hands were upon her. And then his eyes turned all black, the opposite of her whites. Still he let the Force run over her body, following her delicate form. A sensation so intense, it might have smothered her.

He pushed away her dark hair, so he looked at her neck. He slowly leaned in closer to her and then his lips were on her skin. He kissed her neck only for a moment before he looked into her eyes again and said: 'I could've bitten you and tasted your blood. I could've seen all your possible futures.' Still he overwhelmed her with his darkness, as she overwhelmed him with hers. It was as if he was all around her, like it was as if she was all around him. 'But you're too special to die now,' he said.

His dark aura became visible around him. His eyes were still deep pools of black. In the distance he could hear a serene singing and he wondered if she could hear it too. It was an angelic singing, a singing he had only heard in the Void before. If she was the Force, then it had to be her singing, but he knew it wasn't her. The sad, melancholic melodies stayed in the background, barely loud enough for anyone to hear. A mystic, haunting sound, similar to the sound of his own voice, though his voice was, of course, deep and warm instead of high and serene.

'Let me take you away,' he said to her, gently stroking her hair. 'Let me take you to the darkest place. Fly with me,' he leaned in again and whispered her name in her ear, 'Andraste...'

A game, and a dangerous one at that, was what they were playing. Who was in control? Who was leading the dance? It was just that what made this all so spectacular. Oseth would drown the girl in his infinite darkness, but she would do the same with him.

He had something to show to her, so that she might truly awake to the darkness that was everywhere, but she had to float away with him willingly. He couldn't and wouldn't force her to do anything. That was not how this game should be played.

He eyed her with black eyes half shut. He placed his hand on her shoulder, immediately releasing the coldness of his darkness upon her.

The remaining Sith in the valley fled into the academy; terrified at the sight of them, because they didn't understand what was going on.

He wondered what she was thinking. He wanted to know what was going on in that pretty little head of hers. He wanted her to give in to him.

He wanted to embrace her.

After all; she's the Force.

 

[Sreeya]

Andraste had to grin at his words. He was not the first to wish to claim her, snatch her from the clutches of destiny and make her his. She was seen as a tool, a weapon to utilize, and as she relinquished bits of her humanity, she found herself embracing the idea. However, she wanted to be the wielder of the weapon, not anyone else. It was a warped measure of control, one she could not actively enact but sought after it. She did not let him know this, closing her eyes as she felt his energy engulf her in its bosom. She felt the touch of his energy, beginning from her face and roaming all over her body. It was a violation, but she was hypnotized. Whispers encompassed her mind, his dark aura tightly embracing her. She was in a shadowed prism, rooted in place. She could have pulled out of it, could have come up for air, but it was too intoxicating. He was feeding her, and the beast graciously devoured the energy he siphoned into her.

She opened her eyes as she felt his nimble fingers brush her hair aside. She did not step back still, his face a mere blur. His black abysmal eyes hauntingly drew her into an endless, gyroscopic adit. She felt the wind rise then, the desert sands whirling around them as he moved in for the kill. He was the wolf circling around his prey before silently slinking in to strike. His lips on her skin caused a chill to shoot up her spine. She felt the kisses, so gentle and feathery, yet roiling with passion. She could feel his hunger, a desire so powerful it almost overwhelmed her. He was on the brink, a step away from taking his kill. She did not back away, tempting the monster that could so easily destroy and consume her. He was displaying his power and control, holding back from sinking into her delicate flesh. When he spoke, the words hauntingly echoed within her mind. He could tap into her secrets, could be the vanguard of her destiny. He was toying with her as she was toying with him. She knew then that he had relished the taste of her blood, to the point where he wanted so badly to draw out more.

She heard it too, the mournful dirge of the Force. It echoed around them, as if the spirits of the dead were roused by the union of discord. It was a dissonance, yet beautifully legato at the same time. She was lost in it, as she was lost in the feel of his touch, of his lips so eagerly tasting her pallid skin. She felt him stroke her hair then, with the caress of a lover. He wanted to take her away, wanted her to fly with him. He had cast a lure and wanted to reel her in. She began to follow, leaning into his touch and smiling as she heard him whisper her name. Her name beautifully flowed from his lips, elongated so the end of her name carried into the wind. It was her turn to speak then, and she did not gaze upon him, only at the blur of his outline, where the Force became tangible. It was his soul, or the monster that resided within him, that overlaid his person. She hauntingly spoke his thoughts from earlier.

“I cannot be mastered. I cannot be tamed.”

She smiled then, her eyes trailing down to his lips where she saw her blood there, a spot he missed. Andraste tilted her head, leaning in close and lowering her gaze.

“I am fleeting. I am a nightmare, a dream, a prophecy, a legacy, a fallacy or a creed.”

Andraste did not hesitate, her lips brushing against his. It was excruciating, slow and controlled. The storm raged around them, spiraling and gyrating as they stood amidst it. She did not kiss him, but smoothly glided the tip of her tongue over the blood that tinted his lips. The coppery taste made her shudder, the vivid images of her past instantly flashing before her eyes. She tasted him along with her own blood, but she did not linger. She slowly backed away, as if pulled back by an unseen force. She smiled at him again, putting distance between them.

“Perhaps I am the lion.”

She slid into the whirling tempest behind her. Andraste’s silhouette became a slow blur, her dark outline smeared across the yellow behind her. It was a perfect amalgamation, as if a painting had risen around him, ensnaring him within its confines. It would be blinding, quickly spinning around him and closing in. However, moments later, the entire conglomeration suspended in mid-air. Before the blink of an eye, the sand fell back around them, becoming a part of the desert once more. It was as if nothing had happened and he had been standing out in the middle of the desert by himself. The moon was high in the sky now, the stars dotting the deep sapphire above. There was no sign of Andraste, no trace of her Force energy and no hints of her ever having set foot anywhere near the desert. It would feel as if she were entirely an illusion, carelessly leaving him painfully thirsty for more.

 

[D.C.]

She disappeared, vanished like a ghost. The words she'd spoken just before she was gone...

(perhaps I am the lion)

... made him smile once more. She was not the Lion yet, but Oseth knew that she might become the Lion. The sands lied down and he found himself all alone. A lone wolf, looking up to Korriban's moon. His eyes turned back to their real color. He looked so out of place in the dark valley.

He stood tall in the night, looking for a sign of her even though he knew she was gone. He did not sense her presence anymore, and he didn't believe she would mask her signature in the Force. Of course he couldn't be sure, but he just didn't expect her to do that.

Who was she...

(Andraste)

... and what had she done to him?

He cast his eyes down and what he saw, lying there in the sand, shocked him. It was the glass rose she had been holding when she came to him. She had asked him to paint it with blood. It lay there, perhaps she had forgotten about it, or she had left it there on purpose.

He let the rose float up from the ground. He picked it out of the air, holding it in his hands. He stared at it for a long time. The rose seemed to glow as the moonlight shone down on it. He could have sworn he saw her reflection in the glass, instead of his own, and it startled him. He looked up, but of course she wasn't there anymore.

Andraste was long gone.

He let his arms fall to his sides, holding the rose in his right hand. He gritted his teeth and suddenly felt empty... hungry. He craved her, he wanted her. Or perhaps he just wanted her power... to control her. He thought she had left before him to do just that; to leave him behind, craving her. But did it make any difference?

He wasn't quite sure.

But he had given her something as well. She said that perhaps, she was the lion. Assuming she had not lied, that meant he had opened her eyes. He had to make sure she would become the Lion, if he wanted to complete the Puzzle.

He gazed out over the vast desert once more, before turning around and walking back to the academy.

He would find her again; he had to find her again.

And maybe--just maybe--she was craving him as well. For some reason, the thought frightened him. He would not let it stop him, though.

He had to quench his thirst.